


a month of you

by maygp



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged Up, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Daminette December, F/M, MariBat, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life, brief mentions of violence, cursing, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 36,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maygp/pseuds/maygp
Summary: I'll be your babydoll — your bodyguard — if you tell me to.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Damian Wayne
Comments: 73
Kudos: 326





	1. un. to see my babydoll

**Author's Note:**

> Summary is from Kevin Abstract's, "Peach".
> 
> I do not own the characters nor the idea of this crossover.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, just a friend.

un. to see my babydoll // just a friend

* * *

“Last time”, Marinette whispers between all the heated kisses and fruitless attempts to put on the clothes they so haphazardly tossed around the hotel room just an hour before.

“I really don’t believe you.” Her companion smirks, his green eyes shine with mirth as he smooths his darker black locks. Marinette barely believes it herself, but she repeats it for reassurance.

_“Last time, Damian”,_ she emphasizes, while pushing him back onto the hotel bed with a small, hopeless smile. The noirette turns around to gather her dress, shimmying into the waist and sleeves.

“See, you say that. But then that asshole goes and cheats on you again.” She throws a glare at him while her hands move to readjust the straps and smooth out any wrinkles. But Damian doesn’t even bother to look at her as he casually lays in bed with a satisfied smile and dangerous glint in his eye as he stares at the ceiling.

“So, you retaliate by sleeping with me.” And his eyes flash to hers, and she’s caught in the middle between wanting to sneer at him or to kiss that stupid smirk off.

Even with his condescending, know-it-all demeanor, she can’t help but find the man far too attractive; and she takes another deep breath to recompose herself and not give in to her desire to jump him. Someone was bound to notice their coincided disappearances from the party soon enough.

But he is right in a way.

Marinette is proving to be just as toxic and low as her cheating boyfriend by sleeping with one of her employer’s many investors.

When she first caught Adrien with another blonde girl’s legs wrapped around him in the copy room, it was one of the most humiliating pain she ever had to endure — especially, when she was leading _the_ Damian Wayne around the tour of the building.

It was no secret in Paris, that Marinette Cheng and Adrien Agreste were a power couple fueled by her employer’s (his father’s) control over the paparazzi and media; so when she immediately slammed the copy room shut on her oblivious boyfriend and his lover, Damian merely raised a brow at her reaction.

But she let nothing show on her face, aside from wet eyes and the slight quiver in her smile.

He offered to take her to his hotel bar that night for a drink to help ease her pain, and although she didn’t drink much, Marinette couldn’t help but notice how handsome Damian was with his strong features and sharp eyes.

Even so, he listened and was overly blunt with his criticisms of how it seemed that her employer pushed the two together.

In all honesty, the tipsy noirette hardly heard a thing he said despite him giving sound advice about the burdens of an unsatisfied relationship and to find herself or whatever he said that night. All Marinette could focus on was how she liked the sound of his voice and the way his lips curled as he smirked and drank from his own cup of brandy.

So, Marinette kissed him…

…And she profusely apologized while he said nothing. He merely handed her his hotel room key and left her in her to deal with the inner turmoil of having just kissed her investor and being invited to sleep with said investor.

But like the fool she was, Marinette followed him.

She found herself in his room more often than not, each time she came across obvious evidence to her boyfriend’s infidelity — flowery perfume, lipstick stains excused as spilt wine, lacy underwear that most definitely didn’t belong to her.

And each time Adrien cheated, Marinette cheated right back, promising her new lover that it would be the last time.

Both of them knew it was a useless promise because as long as she stayed with the unfaithful asshole, she would go right back to Damian for comfort.

The promise of finality only helped with her savoring their time together, making each touch and kiss grander than their last time before.

“Just leave him, all ready”, he sighs, forcing Marinette to raise a brow at him as she bends to strap in her heels.

“And what? Be with you?” she snorts at the thought. Because although she only looks to Damian to ease her pain, she knew that she was nothing more than another notch in his belt.

He mutters something, making her lean forward confused, but then, he speaks louder.

“You don’t need me, and you don’t need him, Marinette”, Damian says in all serious, keeping those sharp eyes steady on her. Her breath shortens, and she wishes that she has more time to be with him because she _likes_ him — even if she does not have any future with him aside from the sexual benefits.

But then there’s a ring coming from his phone on the nightstand, effectively pulling the two from the tenseness.

Damian shakes his head — not willing to say anything more — and takes the call. Marinette takes the chance to leave quietly back to the party of the hotel.

She spots Adrien immediately, looking as handsome and charming as ever. She nearly swoons if it weren’t for his hand lowering to another woman’s backside as he laughs with all their business associates.

Feeling her unimpressed gaze, he suddenly turns to meet her eyes, and there’s a brief flash of panic until he smiles boyishly and makes his way over to her. Marinette feels her heart clench painfully as she slipped on a small smile, she was so used to using around him, while he bends to kiss her cheek.

“Where have you been?” he asks, and Marinette thinks of how he should have been an actor, instead of a model, because it almost sounds like he cares. “Father wanted to introduce his new protege to our colleagues.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian walk pass them with that impassive, yet, intense air as he strides in and eyes everyone condescendingly. Marinette has to give him props for looking as if he had not just been kissing and making love to her senseless.

“Marinette”, Adrien calls again, and there’s a sharpness to his tone that she rarely ever hears. She blinks up to see a look of barely concealed irritation, and the realization dawns on her that she must have been caught unashamedly staring at her lover.

“I had personal business to attend to with Mr. Wayne, Adrien”, she answers, smiling as innocent as can be. It’s not like she really cares if he finds out about her affair seeing as how he made no efforts to hide those dirty messages and nude pictures sent to his phone that morning.

“You always seem too busy for me, nowadays.” The blond has the audacity to sigh dramatically at her. She looks off to the side to see Damian conversing cordially to other socialites, and she subtly watches as he brings his flute of champagne to his lips and the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

He meets her eye and raises a brow at her, and she swears that there’s a slight arrogant curl to his lips.

“I shouldn’t be worried about him, should I”, Adrien calls out to her. And Marinette smiles bitterly, remembering when she confronted him about the brunette that whispered too closely in his ear one evening. She repeats the same hated phrase that was said to her and takes pleasure in the way his face freezes before realization falls over him.

_“He’s just a friend.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Biz Markie's "Just a Friend", although I like Mario's 2000 version better.
> 
> I used the 1989 release because it fits the theme more of being the other man and cheating and all that. not that I condone cheating, but it's just fun to write my girl doing bad things and out of her goodie-goodie archetype. a little bit of adrien salt, but that's mostly because I don't feel comfortable about writing other characters from ml. adrien just felt like the most versatile, and it's also fun to write him as a scumbag haha.
> 
> hi, so I caved and gave into this ship haha. my favorite cliche dynamic is angsty boy and bubbly girl, and this daminette stuff is like a breath of fresh air/crack. I'm relatively new to this ship, and I'm not sure if it's exclusive or if I need permission to join in on here. so please let me know if I need to do something.
> 
> for some little background, I have always wanted to do these month prompts, but I never end up finishing due to being busy and/or lack of inspiration. another reason is because I was too shy to post, but hopefully, this will turn out okay, and I actually complete it before the year ends lol.
> 
> all of these chapters are going to be unedited one shots. some will be interconnected, some will not be. and I am letting everyone know in advance that I may break my back trying to make my story reach for a prompt that is so loosely based on it. the chapters will be inspired by songs/lyrics that are sort of connected with the prompt, and I may even skip some, considering how I am starting this month late and literally pulled these chapters out of thin air (I have no idea what I'm doing lol 😭🥺).
> 
> despite the tags being limited to ml, most of my stories will be more involved in the dc universe or some au due to how it is a little more grittier. so in other words, I won't be mentioning a lot of ml characters, themes, magic, etc. idk I have this very love/hate relationship with the show right now; and lately, it just seems very corny and cringey to me except for a few episodes here and there.
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy! with much love, may ♡


	2. deux. why do birds suddenly appear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, blind date.

deux. why do birds suddenly appear? // blind date

* * *

Selina had promised that this man was a cut above the rest, but due to his high profile, he had to remain behind anonymity until their first meeting.

Marinette could only pray that they actually _do_ meet before another one of the city’s villains terrorizes their meeting spot. It was the fifth time they had to reschedule, and Sel kept pushing her to go on at least one date with her associate.

She sighs sipping at the flute of champagne and crossing her legs at the seat in the hotel bar. It had already been thirty minutes, and she could only avoid the random bar patrons for so long before deciding to call it quits.

It wasn’t like she was that desperate to meet someone. Marinette had only drunkenly complained to her employer that her past few relationships had failed miserably, and the woman offered to introduce her to someone.

_“He’s a blunt little asshole, but sweet when he can be. Something tells me he might have a soft spot for you.”_

Marinette doesn’t even know why she even agreed to meet the man after that whole fiasco of a description, but Sel just had a way with words, and she kept agreeing for another date even after every disaster chances of meeting.

The first time she had arrived early at the restaurant, it just so happened that a car chase between Gotham’s vigilantes and that criminal dressed in horrid green happened to end with the latter’s truck crashing into the entrance. Thank whatever higher being that no one was hurt, and that Robin pulled her out of the way last minute as he sped through on his personalized Kawasaki, grabbing and pulling her at the last possible second.

It wasn’t a pleasant first meeting with the hero as he demanded to know why in the world she didn’t move out of the way, but then he gently brought her to the rushing paramedics as he noticed some cuts on her arm from the shattering glass when the man in the ugly suit drove his car through.

Now that she thought about it, she saw the BatFamily more within the past two weeks than she even saw her date. In particular, it was Robin, who ended up saving her directly or indirectly.

A bank robbery next to the coffee shop. Saved by Robin and company as the man in a tacky tuxedo almost shot at her.

A hostage situation at the museum. Rescued by Robin before he returned to beat the two-faced man.

A release of toxic, hallucinogenic gas fumes at the park. Escorted out by Robin and his allies as the man in the burlap mask tried to attack them.

The door opens to reveal a few other drunken Gothamites laughing, none of which who were her date. The woman sighs as she checks the time to see that an hour had already passed, and it seems that her mysterious blind date is going to be a no-show.

Marinette sullenly closes her tab, leaving a hefty tip, and leaves the bar to deal with the chilly night air. Her mind wanders to the coat she left on her bed due to the fact that it clashed with her outfit. In retrospect, maybe she should have brought it just in case.

But hey — she still looked good, she thinks as she admires her outfit once more in the reflections of parked cars and storefront mirrors.

Yet, something seems off as she catches sight of how a car slows down, keeping pace with her own footfalls.

Marinette narrows her eyes at the car as she continues to walk forward, yet, the tinted windows barely reveals the driver or, if any, other occupants in the car. Her pace quickens, as she prepares herself for the onslaught of unwanted catcalls or the worse that she deliberately chooses to ignore.

Her eyes steadfastly scan the neighborhood to look for any sort of witnesses or help, but it appears that it was just her and the car as the streets are empty and the stores remain closed.

Panic begins to set in as she lightly jogs away, but the car only speeds up, forcing her to break out into a run.

Marinette does not dare look behind her again while the car screeches to a halt and multiple footsteps rush out the car.

She is just about to scream before a hand yanks her hair back and presses cloth soaked in heavy chemicals to her mouth and nose. Soon, all she sees is black.

* * *

When Marinette regains her senses, she realizes that her wrists are uncomfortably numb and bound by chaffing rope. She blinks up, only to feel the scrapes of a burlap bag rubbing against her cheeks. Still groggy, she forces her arms to move, bringing back more circulation into them. The knot is not as tight as she expected it to be, but it will still take some time for her to loosen it and actually free herself.

She sends a silent thanks to Selina for practically forcing her to take those self-defense lessons and strategy thinking classes on what to do when abducted. Because as much as she wants to panic, now was most definitely not the time for that.

Someone pulls her up onto her knees and she flinches as her skin scrapes against the rough cement. Her arm is yanked up, and she bites back the yelp as she is forced onto her feet.

Then, a large hand aggressively jerks the burlap over her head, and she quietly curses in French as they pull a few strands of her hair with it.

Her eyes flutter as it redjusts to the bright lights to see a man with a burnt black mask against his face to her side, surrounded by many armed men.

She frantically looks around, registering that they were in an empty warehouse and breathes a sigh of relief when she notices Batman along with his Robin-, bird-themed partners glaring daggers at the masked man.

“I just want the pussy cat, Bat”, the man in the black mask sneers. “You don’t have to get involved into our little affairs.”

There is a resounding click, as she finally realizes how his weapon stares straight at her.

Marinette wonders how in the world did she got into this mess. And the night of being stood up and abducted ran through her mind. Maybe it was the effects of the drugs, but she felt more irate than frightened. Because how dare this asshole interrupts her self-pity walk. Her abduction is enough to put her in a sour mood as she finally manages to untie the knot, holding onto the ropes as if it still bounded her.

Just when the Dark Knight opens his mouth to speak, Marinette uses the moment of distraction to wrap the rope around masked man’s arms before twisting behind him, The action causes the weapon to be faced directly at his own temple, and she maneuvered the extra length of rope to wrap around his neck before forcing him to turn them, allowing the two to witness the shock on his subordinate’s faces, all while their backs are towards the vigilantes.

She glares at them, feeling the adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. Both hands hold on tightly to the ropes, and she knows if she pulls hard enough, Marinette may just cause him to pass out. One of her hands reach up to wrap around the gun still in his grip, but thanks to the rope it quickly cut off circulation, rendering his arm numb and useless.

“Tell them to put down their weapons”, she grits out as the man double her size struggles against her. He brings his free elbow down onto her, a quick whoosh causes her own hostage to cry out. Blood seeps out of his arm and stains his cream suit as a bat-shaped weapon is lodged into his arm.

She tightens the rope making the man gasp for air.

“Lower them”, he pants out, and she breathes a sigh of relief, as she carefully moves them backwards to the vigilantes.

When she peers behind her, there is a mixture of shock, curiosity, and amusement on all their faces. Marinette awkwardly gestures for them to finally take ahold of the masked man. And Robin steps forward to aid her

But just as she loosens her grip on the ropes to hand him over to the vigilante, her hostage doubles over, pulling away from her and slipping out of her grasps.

Marinette internally curses as she just lost her only security as the masked man struggles for breath as he rubs at his neck, glaring at her, in particular. The criminal raises the arm still holding the weapon and directly aims it at her.

“Shoot them!” he orders, and so many things happen within that second. Shots are fired at random. Most of them miss their target, miraculously enough.

Marinette instinctively dives behind the red and green hero as too many bullets fly too close to her for comfort. She barely recognizes that the Bat Family have taken the offense as they already managed to subdue the masked man’s subordinate’s or were engaged in battle with some of the bigger criminals.

Suddenly, she is carried and lifted away from the crossfires, and she looks up in relief to see the irate face of Robin carrying her behind the other vigilantes to an empty hallway.

“Idiot”, he tsks at her, checking her over as he set the woman down.

“Sorry”Marinette mutters, still shaking at the fact that she actually managed to put Selina’s tutelage into good use and the fact that she almost died — _again_.

“I can’t believe you used me as a shield.” he sneers, earning a confused look from her.

“I’m covered in Versace. You’re covered in kevlar. Something tells me Gianni wasn’t going to save my life”, she scoffs at him. But somewhere she wonders when she got so relaxed and playful with the vigilante.

Robin huffs, although there was a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“Get out of here, the police should arrive soon.” And then, he turns around to join the fray, just when the window shatters to reveal a woman in a sleek catsuit smirk menacingly down at the man in the black mask.

* * *

Marinette sighs dramatically as she walks through the office doors of Selina’s art gallery.

“I can’t believe I almost died last night, and you still made me go to work”, she whines, walking right past her occupied employer. Marinette flops right onto the little futon in the office, sighing once more and giggling when she caught Selina rolling her eyes.

“First of all, I just asked you to fax over some of the documents for the next exhibit.”

“My fax machine broke.”

“And then I offered to pick it up from you, so you wouldn’t have to come in.”

“I needed a distraction. I was going stir crazy at my apartment.”

“And that distraction involves driving me crazy?” Selina asks, clearly unamused.

“Yes.” Marinette sits up, pouting at the woman.

“If it weren’t for you, setting me up on those blind dates, I wouldn’t have to re-evaluate my whole life as to why I continued going out to meet a man after five near death experiences.”

“You did consent to meeting him, more than once”, Selina smirks, before holding out her palm. “Now give me those documents, Minette.”

The younger woman rolls her eyes at the nickname, before pulling out the multiple files from her bag. She remembers scanning them, and re-reading the papers for any noticeable screw-up or loophole, but the woman just couldn’t believe that Sel got the funding from a very prominent man in Gotham.

“How’d you even managed to get Bruce Wayne to donate to the upcoming art exhibit?”

“We have some history”, Selina smiles mischievously, not at all bothering to look Marinette in the eyes as she reads over the papers.

The Parisian laughs, as she leans closer to the woman.

“You’re not telling me he’s involved in your _other_ life, is he?”

“And what life is that?” the woman practically purrs at her.

“You know”, Marinette giggles. “The one with all the leather and whip and S&M...”

The tanner woman only hums, casually typing away at her computer.

“Selina!” the younger one laughs, but Marinette doesn’t press for anymore, as she simply enjoys the little teasing banter between them. The girl is still contemplating her life choices after last night, but the sense of normalcy and laughter helps her cope.

“Oh before I forget”, Selina starts, pulling her from her thoughts. “About your blind date...”

“He’s not interested, huh?” Marinette gives a pathetic smile, ignoring her bruised ego. It is embarrassing to think that she almost died or was hospitalized for their dates only for the guy to not show up to the one that was not interrupted.

“It’s all right, Sel”, she sighs. “I’m really not that desperate to meet someone right now, and I, especially, don’t want to go on another date where another criminal could show up.”

Selina smirks up at her as her eyes flash behind the girl.

“Actually, I just wanted to introduce you to him.” And the woman stands up, gesturing behind her.

Marinette whips her head back and flushes at the sight of a very handsome, tan man. She absentmindedly takes note of how he stood tall and confident in a two-piece Versace suit.

She looks away, with an awkward smile, internally screaming at how unprepared she was to meet him and wishing she had taken the extra effort to do something with her hair, instead of letting it down. At least her sundress was decent and tasteful, despite not at all being appropriate for Sel’s professional gallery.

Out of all the days, he decides to show up — it had to be right at that moment when she was complaining about their failed attempts to meet.

“Marinette”, Sel calls out, resting a hand on the impassive man’s shoulder. “This is Damian Wayne.”

The woman blinks at the name and feels herself flush even more at the recognition because _Merde, that’s Bruce Wayne’s son!_

“Pleasure to meet you”, Marinette laughs awkwardly, knowing that there was no coming back from this, and that she may as well, just view him as an associate rather than suitor.

“Likewise, Marinette”. And _god_ — the way he says her name is even sexy. But there is something awfully familiar about his voice.

“I have to apologize for not attending our date, Marinette”, he speaks up, and she notices the way something mischievous and amusing flashes in his eyes, as if there was a hidden joke behind his apology.

“Gotham is a very dangerous city, and it seems that we have the worst luck in regards to our meeting.”

“No, I understand”, she smiles shyly, ignoring how Selina looks far too amused at the two.

“Well, I was hoping that I can take you out for lunch this afternoon. I have some other matters to attend to, but I should be finished by three”, he suggests, checking an alert on his phone. His dark brows furrow for a bit before his face relaxes as he meets her eyes.

“Yes”, she stutters, barely able to contain her excited smile. “I would like that very much.”

Damian hums in approval, flashing her a small grin, before bidding farewell to her and Selina.

She all but collapses into her seat when she is sure of his disappearance.

“Wow”, she huffs, smiling brightly at no one, in particular.

“He’s not as charming as his father or his eldest brother, but he did learn a thing or two from them.” Selina smirks down at her.

“Anyways, since you have some time to kill, and he’s picking you up from here, do you mind getting me some more frames and placards from the backroom.”

Marinette rolls her eyes, but she owes it to the woman for introducing her to Damian.

Right when she steps out into the lobby, passing the modern art exhibits, the wide windows shatter as a grotesque man, who is made entirely out of filthy clay, land just paces in front of her.

The vigilantes that she had seen just the night before land close to the two in a crouch, including Robin, who looks just as exasperated as the rest of them when they catch sight of her.

The criminal suddenly turns towards her and is just about to grab at her with his extending arms until she leaps behind a wall, pouting, yet, again at being in another hostage situation.

From the opposite side of the wall, she can hear resounding clinks and small explosions as she crouches down to keep her head low. There was no doubt that some of the displays have already been damaged, and she internally grimaces at how Sel was difinietly going to be in a hissy mood all week.

Familiar footsteps near her, Marinette looks up to see her personal hero kneel before her, holding his hand out. Despite the nagging fear, she smiles brightly at him in amusement, and Robin tsks, with an amused smile of his own.

“I feel like we’re going to be seeing more of each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title chapter is a line from Stevie Wonder's talk box song, "Close to You".
> 
> I thought it was fitting, considering how Stevie Wonder is blind (I'm sorry lol), and the bat/bird heroes keep showing up to every blind date. I can't write fight scenes, and I was thinking of all the Jackie Chan fights I have seen, so sorry for this mess.


	3. troix. can't wait to taste your skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, decorate.

troix. can’t wait to taste your skin //decorate

* * *

Mari felt like a canvas — something that she painted over with pasty rice foundation that was two shades too light and rouge lips to match her blushing cheeks that she pinched too hard before every outing.

She had been told countless times that she was a work of art, something to be admired and worshipped — and if she was lucky, gifted with countless presents from her patrons. New shoes from this chairman, a wool coat from that baron, foreign fruits and candies from the traveling peddler.

But there was one man that she always looked for above all her many admirers and patrons.

Mari never knew his name — only that his skin was the most beautiful olive color that she had ever seen and that his eyes were so dark and cutting for such a lovely shade of green.

All the others tried to clothe her with the finest silks and prettiest hair pieces. Dressed her to impress their own rivals — letting them know that she was theirs for the time being.

But no — this nameless man adorned her with countless kisses that still burned her skin and lips and many more love bites that she hides under her skirts and collars.

If she were to belong to anyone, other than herself, she would belong to the no-named man, who carried a blade and always dressed in black to hide his smirks as he teases her and the bloody sins of his many victims.

The first time Mari met him, he had decorated her with blood of the man who had decidedly tried to force his way under her skirts. She felt the blood splatter against her cheek and onto her silk robes before she saw the mysterious assassin behind her attacker.

She could only focus on how feral his green eyes were as the other man fell to the floor with a large red line leaking from his neck.

The no-named man helped her away from the alley, offering her a handkerchief to wipe the blood before disappearing into that night.

There were more chance encounters with the him after that.

One of her patrons had dropped his tea and fallen straight into the table with purple lips and a dead look in his eye. For some reason, she looked up into the rafters to see him watching the scene with his dark eyes aimed at her as he remained unnoticed by too many aside from her.

The chairman had invited her to a play, and when he left for a smoke break, his seat was occupied by the nameless man. Mari remembered, looking at him in shock, before wordlessly returning her gaze to the play, edging just a bit closer to him.

Another, who accompanied her as she gazed up at the blooming cherry trees, had merely disappeared. And when her eyes returned to the blossoms, she noticed his casual frame, leaning against the trunk of the tree as his leg carelessly swing back and forth off the branch.

Again and again, the no named man appeared and disappeared into her life. Far too quickly for her liking.

So, she offered herself in exchange for him to stay a second longer.

He would still leave her, only this time, with a gentle kiss to her forehead. But he always returned, eager to embellish her in those love marks she just adores and to be held in his firm, but tainted hands.

She loved him — or at the very least, was infatuated with him to warrant the longing to just merely be in his presence despite his quips and teases.

As Mari sat like the pretty canvas that she painted, pretending to listen and smile at her new patrons, her fingers trace the love mark under her silk skirt.

There was a gentle breeze coming from the open window, and her smile raised a bit more as she patiently waited for her no-named lover to decorate her skin once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title chapter from Miguel's "Adorn".
> 
> this is one of the many chapters that are loosely based on the prompt haha. I feel kind of bad, but idk if I can make a very holiday-themed story without feeling corny, so I'm probably not doing this right.
> 
> it's super short, but may be a two or three shot, who knows. basically, this is based on all these samurai and assassin fics/vn's I was obsessed with. damian is an assassin and marinette (or mari, to make it more Japanese lol) is a geisha infatuated with him.


	4. quatre. we are the names we say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, gaming.

quatre. we are the names we say // gaming

* * *

Damian is in the process of winning.

It is difficult to tell with his swollen cheek and bruised torso, but he will win despite all the odds being against him.

Sionis is a demented bastard, who likes to play mind games with his victims as he tortures them, and unfortunately, he was one of the two other players abducted and forced into this match. Through numb hands that had been rubbed raw from the ropes, he subtly reaches behind him to hold onto the limp wrist of the girl, who had been abducted along with him.

_Good_ , he thinks, feeling her pulse at his fingertips. _She’s still alive._

The new transfer at Gotham Academy was been unfortunately too close to him when he was abducted for most likely ransom. After all, Sionis was never a fan of the Wayne family, and given how he, as Robin, and his brothers had infiltrated another one of his underground brothels, the man was short on cash.

Damian is pulled from his thoughts as his classmate begins to stir from her sleep until she immediately jumps and starts yanking on the ropes behind her. His jaw clenches to fight off the urge to scold her because Damian had a plan to win; and her pulling free too early was not part of it.

“Marinette”, he cuts through, and immediately her panicked struggles ceased.

“Damian”, she stutters, shifting uncomfortably to look at him, but his hands put a bit more pressure on her wrist to calm her down, to let her know that he got this.

“Relax, Marinette”, he deadpans, struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice. “You’re with me. Remember you have to trust me.”

“I’m—I’m with you”, she whispers, back and he could feel her cold fingers grasp tightly to his sleeves.

“How long have we been here?” she asks with a wavering breath.

“Almost seven hours”, he answers automatically. This wasn’t the first time he had been abducted (not even as Damian) With all the training his mother and father put him through, he is prepared for this.

A strangled noise comes from her throat at his answer, yet, she only releases a huff of air, as she breathes in more deeply before exhaling.

“When do you think your family will notice you missing?” she questions desperately.

“They already know”, Damian says, frowning a bit, when his heightened hearing noticed the incoming footsteps that were no doubt Sionis.

He grips her wrist again, catching her attention.

“Listen to me, Marinette. Keep quiet and make yourself as meek as possible”, he orders, glaring at the entrance as his hands began to loosen the rope around his wrist. “This man — he’s a fucking psychopath, and he’ll try to hurt us — _hurt you_. But I’ll aggravate him enough to keep his attention. Remember stay quiet until help comes.”

“Damian, I don’t —“ but she is cut off as the door opens to reveal a man with a black wooden mask burnt to his face and a sick look in his eye.

“Let’s play.”

* * *

Damian spits that burning metallic taste at Sionis’ italian shoes. The pain in his jaw is sharp like the knife he used to cut lines into his skin, but he could handle it. He could handle all of it. The only nagging worry is how Marinette is kept in the corner of the room guarded by two armed men as they all watch Sionis beat him.

But he could handle it though, he thinks as another kick is aimed at his stomach.

“Fuck you”, Damian spat out as he toppled over, ensuring that his ropes still looked as if they held up.

He can’t fight back, not yet. Not when the other two men have their weapons aimed at his whimpering classmate, and especially, not when Sionis was not nearly as satisfied with beating up his bartering prize.

Sionis tuts at him like a damn schoolteacher, and Damian wants to roll his eyes.

Heprepares for another kick to his abdomen, but it never came as Sionis walks away from him and towards Marinette, who gazes to him with wide, gray eyes, pleading with him for something.

He subconsciously let the ropes slack just a bit while he glares at Sionis, preparing a plan in mind — thinking of every move their captor could make and every countermove that he could go against.

Sionis leans down over, moving too close to her face for comfort, and Damian’s glare hardens even more. He promised Marinette that he would keep her safe.

“She your girl?” the masked man questions, moving a finger to tilt her chin up more. Damian could see Marinette’s wavering intake of breaths as the man forces her to look up at him.

Damian says nothing because either way, Sionis’ focus was on her now. And if he said yes, then his twisted mind would come up with ways to harm her. Saying no, would only bring her more pain as the man would try to get out a reaction from him. Remaining silent could be a toss-up, but the chances were that he wanted to traumatize her just as much.

He catches her eye again and tries to convey that he got this — he is winning, despite the blood from his nose, smearing his lips and chin.

And she nods in understanding, before she gives a wavering stare to their captor.

“Don’t hurt him anymore”, she says, surprising everyone in the room, including himself. But his ears perk when he hears the silent footsteps of his brothers outside.

_About fucking time_ , he thinks.

“What.” Sionis glares at her, tightening his hold on her chin. Rage builds inside Damian as his classmate flinches at the pain, but she still remains strong.

“Don’t hurt him”, Marinette repeats, struggling to pull away from his grasp.

“And who should I hurt?” Sionis laughs, before glaring down at the girl. “You?”

Many things happen at once. Dick and Jason break down the door to throw sedative darts at the two men holding Marinette hostage. Damian leaps up to wrap the ropes around Sionis’ neck and _pulls_ until the man passes out. Just for good measure and _most certainly not revenge_ , he slams the masked man’s head against the table to effectively give him a painful concussion.

Marinette gasps, breathing hard as she takes in Damian along with the two vigilantes.

“How did you —“she trails off, losing words to ask how he loosened the ropes and how his family managed to get the heroes so fast.

Damian ignores her amazed and shocked stare as he kneels down to quickly untie her wrists. She still remains shocked even as his brows furrow at her bruised arms. He unconsciously began to rub back feelings into them.

“I don’t lose”, is all he said, ignoring the questioning and amused looks from his brothers.

After all, he has his family as an ace up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Pusha T's "The Games We Play".
> 
> I just really like this line and the song title had "games" so close enough, right? idk. I main kirby in smash, and I'm not that big on gaming like my bf is.


	5. cinq. if the stars start falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, fire.

cinq. if the stars start falling // fire

* * *

The world is burning, and he laid in bed, sparking the blunt he had rolled just minutes before, thinking of how things could have gone so differently.

Damian hated himself for being so fucking stupid. So egotistical and stubborn to go against his family, his father — _his brother._

He should have — _he should have never used with Clark._ The all too powerful man demented and twisted with grief for pursuing his own fucked up sense of justice.

Unlike his father, who was angry that his friend had killed his long-time nemesis in act of vengeance, Damian had felt relief that they no longer had to deal with the clown. Because no one else would be harmed and killed by him. Arkham was useless in rehabilitating and least of all containing the psychopath, and he started to view his father useless for failing to prevent his killing sprees.

And when he finally cut ties with his father by cutting that criminal’s carotid artery, Damian _felt good_. That man had done unspeakable things to woman and others and was proud of it. So, shouldn’t he have felt proud to take out one disgusting vermin off this world?

There was an inkling that maybe this happy sensation in finally being able to kill again was his mother’s and grandfather’s teachings coming back to him, but he quickly shook the idea off.

Because his mother’s side simply killed those who were incompetent in spite of their innocence. They had taken out people as if they were no more than bugs daring to be in their presence.

But Damian was taking out people who had done this world wrong — so he wasn’t just the grandson of the Demon, but he was a god fixing this world.

It was all he could tell himself even as allies turned on each other. Friend against friend, family against family... and brother against brother.

It was the guilt that drove him to give up being Robin — _to give up redemption_ — and don on his brother’s suit in a fucked-up way to keep his memory alive. He didn’t deserve it. God knows he didn’t deserve it, and a bitter memory of his father disowning him runs through his mind.

And he laid there with regret as he brought the rolled blunt to his lips and inhaled its intoxicants and _relaxed_. The woman next to him stirred as she blinked up at him with a pout.

“Already?” she groaned, voice still laced with sleep. “You should have at least made breakfast first.”

He gave a lazy smile, pushing away all thoughts of his regret. He passed her the roll, and she took it easily, already breathing it in before giving a slight cough as she moved to sit up. The roll was back in his hands, and he admired his lover stretch the kinks out of her back.

Despite everything he’d done, he was still grateful that it all led him to her. _Marinette_ , who still remained innocent and saved from his actions even though he had a hand in the world’s downfall. He was hiding out in Europe, and he stumbled upon her family’s shop, who offered a room for board. Late nights and playful banter all lead up to this moment with her.

“I’ll get some snacks before we get too high to do anything again”, she smiled. But he had already placed the blunt back into the ashtray for later and wrapped her in his arms.

She yelped, as he pulled her back into the bed, pulling the covers over them. She giggled relentlessly, as he smiled softly down at her, but Marinette pressed down on the furrow in his brow that he didn’t even realize was there until she began to smooth it out.

“You okay?” she asked, steadying her breathing as she looked up at him in amusement and concern.

“Fine, just thinking about my trip”, he managed out, ignoring the guilt ebbing at his sanity.

He wanted to tell her so bad that his so-called visit to his family back in America was just a cover for Clark assigning him on a new mission to stop his old teammates. He wanted to tell her that his dead brother’s suit is hidden in a false drawer in their apartment, and he will be wearing it come tomorrow. He wanted to tell her how he went against everything his father taught him and fell so fast and deep down the slippery slope of this god complex.

He wanted to tell her that the hand she holds and caresses and kisses had been stained with too many blood, and he was part of the reason of why this world is burning with fear and uncertainty.

But he doesn’t.

She frowned for a moment, before giving him a teasing smile.

“Okay”, she answered, leaning in close to him no matter how strong the stench of marijuana clung to him. “Call me and text me as much as you can. It’s so crazy there right now.”

Her lips found his, and Damian took the moment to deepen it as his body moved to hover over hers.

And Damian hated himself even more when she whispered three words within his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Jhené Aiko's "Burning Man". 
> 
> the whole song is about lighting up and smoking weed if the world ends, hence, the weed added in to make it fit for the battle with practical gods.
> 
> an injustice au! my bf and our friends played this game and said it was fun.
> 
> I probably should have mentioned earlier that I am not that well-versed in the dc fandom save for all the movies/shows I have watched (nolan's batman trilogy, burton's movies, the dcau movies, teen titans series, etc) so I really am going off as much is wikia can allow me lmao.


	6. six. sea of trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, tree.

six. sea of trees // tree

* * *

“A little too early to be out today, Mari?”

He leans against the trunk of the cherry tree as his leg swings back and forth.

The girl in the pretty pink robes snaps her head up, the sight of her excited smile causes him to smirk under his mask.

“I was looking for you”, she answers unashamed. “You disappeared last night.”

He shakes his head, sighing at how naive the entertainer chooses to remain. After all, she knows him only by his profession — as a lethal weapon that disappears into thin air. He has killed in front of her more times than he would have liked.

Of course, those were no coincidences seeing as how her “Mother”, or caretaker, had set her up to entertain known criminals.

Unbeknownst to the beauty, Mari is merely an instrument in all this as he went behind the back of his father to conspire with the man’s lover on how to murder all these despicable beings. It was easy, and his father was sure to find all of the older woman’s link to the murders. But fingers will not be pointed to him seeing as how he ensured to leave no evidence from his involvement.

Other than Mari’s own witness, but it was too easy to leave it all up to her imagination.

“Come down. I need to tell you something”, she calls, leaning a palm against his tree, and he obliges to follow her orders for once.

Her face lights up more, and he can’t help but think that she looks even more pretty as the blossoms fall delicately over her and her pretty robes. It is refreshing to see the white makeup rubbed off her face to reveal tanner skin and a natural blush, as the blood rushes to her cheeks.

“I love you”, Mari says proudly, never daring to look away from his eyes.

He freezes for a moment before he smirks all too hard and forced.

“You’re a little dumb, aren’t you?” he teases, despite the growing guilt. “After all, you can’t love me. You don’t know my name. I hardly exist.”

“I’ll give you a name, if you don’t give me yours.”

“And what name would that be?” he asks playing along with her game. She adorably hums in thought, before her eyes gleam at an idea.

“Robin”, she speaks slowly. “You’re my Robin.”

“Again”, he smiles, shaking his head in exasperation because why would she love him. “You’re a little dumb.”

But Mari pays him no mind as she repeats it.

“I love you, Robin.”

Something inside him cracks a little because although she helped him with his missions, she is merely a pawn that needs to be sacrificed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Jhené Aiko's "Junkai".
> 
> junkai means forest in Japanese. the story is inspired by another of my favorite vn's where the mc confesses dramatically to the cool-headed assassin.
> 
> this chapter is part two to chapter three's assassin/geisha au. if it was not obvious damian conspired with mari's caretaker, or "mother" (it could be talia, but I was mostly thinking of selina) , to have mari entertain criminals, so he could take them out.


	7. sept. for the world that is ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, dancer.

sept. for the world that is ours // dancer

* * *

Marinette never intend for Sel’s heists to go this far. After all she is simply an exotic dancer that needed the extra cash to support herself in Gotham.

But her mentor has such a way with words, and not only was the older woman advising her on her pole routines; but they were, also, altering the effects of cocaine to roofie their clients.

Some of these big shot accountants and CEOs deserved to have their credit card stolen or maxed out at their strip club with the way they forcibly pressed their lips against hers or roughly grabbed at her chest and ass.

Marinette just happened to become Sel’s right hand woman, managing the girls and the amounts of drugs to be slipped into their victim’s drinks. There were times where she felt like she was doing the mos work on their side hustle — especially on the nights where Selina was busy with another job that she always hints at and jokes about.

Once Marinette found a whip and a leather catsuit, but Selina merely laughed before taking it from her. The younger woman had a theory that her stripping mentor was a dominatrix.

But every now and then when Sel was unavailable, Marinette would keep her updated with vague text messages or call if she needed help.

Like tonight, when Holly called her in a panic to meet her at her current client’s house.

And unfortunately, for tonight, Selina was MIA, leaving Marinette to deal with the hyperventilating brunette.

“What the fuck happened?”, Marinette curses at her sobbing coworker, as they lugged the knocked out and very naked businessman to Holly’s car. Honestly, it didn’t look good for them seeing as how the man bled from his temple. He isn’t dead, but he definitely needs a hospital.

“I bet that he wouldn’t jump off the roof, and _he did_ ”, the girl explains as her last words lead into a whine. The two manage to push the naked man into the back seat, and Marinette grimaces as blood soaks her favorite one-strapped top.

“Calm down”, Marinette tells Holly as they slide into the front seats. She internally groans, wishing she got her license when she moved to Gotham, considering how she is the most sensible of the two. “We can’t look suspicious. We’ll just drop him off at the hospital and leave.”

Holly nods, still whimpering, yet, Marinette’s attention already returns to her phone as she is sent to voicemail again.

“Fucking, damn it”, Marinette mutters, glaring angrily at the screen.

_She is going to kill Selina._

* * *

Marinette finally breathes a sigh of relief when they reached the entrance of the hospital ER. The area was completely empty due to being four in the morning, allowing the perfect chance to escape quickly. There were far too many times when Holly jerked the wheel as the man behind them groaned or when there was an explosion occurring from the Bat Family fighting another villain, causing Marinette to hit her head against the car window and deal with her coworker’s shriek.

Luckily enough, the naked man never woke from whatever contusion he had.

“Go grab someone from inside to get a stretcher or something”, Marinette huffs as she tries to drag the naked man out of the car. Her hand accidentally slips, and the man’s head hits the ground again with another thunk, causing the girls to grimace.

Holly whimpers more, as she shakes her head.

“I can’t”, she says, already hyperventilating. “They’re going to ask questions, and we’re —“

Her words are cut off when both girls shriek as two men in capes and a woman in a catsuit land on the roof of the car.

Marinette feels herself pale when she recognizes the costumed men to be Gotham’s very own vigilantes, Batman and Robin. However, her companion is quick to snap out of her stunned state, and she runs as fast as her heels can allow her away from them, leaving Marinette to deal with the heroes.

“Holly!” Marinette whines, wanting to tear up at her inevitable doom. “What the fuck, this is your car!”

She watches as her companion flee, and the sight almost made her laugh if she didn’t feel the inquisitive glares of the caped crusaders.

“Mari? What happened?” the woman in the catsuit questioned, and the noirette freezes, immediately recognizing her voice. Because it is the only voice that she wanted to hear the whole night.

“Sel?” she blinks up, taking a better look at the goggled woman, only to confirm that yes — Selina fucking Kyle was the fucking Catwoman.

But all of her thoughts are interrupted as she hears a flurry of men in scrubs rush out with a stretcher, already grabbing at the unconscious naked man.

Thinking quickly, Marinette pretends to sob, scrunching her face up as she fists her bloody shirt.

“Please, help! That’s my husband! Oh god!”

She continues to sob as she looks down, hoping that no one would question why this middle aged man looked like he married a sex worker — but hey, this was Gotham after all.

When the ER nurses lead the knocked out client away, Marinette immediately feels awkward as her hand scratched at her head to pretend like her mentor and fucking Batman and Robin did not just witness her horrid acting.

“What happened?” someone asks again, only this time, it comes from the man in the cowl, himself. Marinette shrugs, flinching at how she was _so_ going to jail.

But Selina takes their attention, as she practically scolds the most feared man in Gotham and some parts of the world _like it was nothing._

“Don’t even think about it, Bat”, she snarls. “She’s my informant, and therefore, yours.”

At this, Robin, who has done nothing but glare at her the whole time, looks surprised.

“She’s Sionis’ girl?” he asks, squinting at her.

Marinette blinks, but nods at the mention of Roman, one of her regular patrons that took a liking to her. And she remembers how every now and then, Sel would ask about him; and Marinette would delve into how the man would take calls about his marketing of weapons and hardcore drugs all while she danced for him.

“Yes”, she confirms hesitantly, but Sel interrupts again with another snarl.

“We’ll discuss this later.” She glares at the two men before turning apologetically to her protégé. “Marinette, I’ll have Robin take you to my apartment, and we’ll talk about tonight.”

But her anxiety spikes as she fearfully glances at the hero because although she was still rightfully angry at her mentor, the dancer would much rather be with her than someone, who could take her to the police.

“Now, Mari”, Sel sighs as if she was a mother talking to her child. “Bat and I still have other things to attend to.”

Marinette whimpers as Robin silently glares at them both. Yet, he doesn’t say anything as he leaps off Holly’s car to enter the driver’s seat. She has no choice, but to follow, ignoring Batman’s burning stare and Selina’s mom-like attitude.

When she straps herself into the car, she meets Robin’s analytical and condescending gaze, which makes her even more frustrated with the situation.

“I don’t get it”, he says, pulling off when the older people leap away.

“What”, she asks, hesitantly eyeing Robin. If she wasn’t so anxious and terrified, she would have laughed at how Robin was driving some beat up sedan to take her home. And if she wasn’t so intimidated, she would have thought this Robin to be so handsome with his strong jaw and tan skin.

“What does Selina see in you? Why would she want you to become her new protégé?”

Marinette takes it to offense, internally questioning why the woman wouldn’t help perfect her routines It was nt like she was the worst dancer at the gentlemen’s club.

But little did she know that Selina had something completely different in mind when she took her under her wing.

She will not find out what he truly means until months later as Selina pushes the younger noirette off a skyscraper in a black skintight suit, only to have this Robin catch her.

But for now, she merely answers with an irritated huff.

“I’m a good dancer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Beyoncé's "Dance for You".
> 
> this chapter was inspired by the movie Hustlers (2019), which is about exotic dancers swindling rich white men of wall street. what a fucking power move lmao.
> 
> I know there's no actual dancing, but it's mentioned lol.


	8. huit. ain't it righteous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, robin hood.

huit. ain’t it righteous // robin hood

* * *

“Who taught you to be this?” she whispers under the sheets. Her night hair tangled between his fingers as she rests her head on his forearm. She huddles close to him for warmth, as there is only the sheet that shields them from the world and its night breeze.

“What do you mean?” Damian hums as he stares up at the moonlight filtering through the blanket. His arms wrap more tightly around her shivering body, far too naturally. Just as it was natural for her to part with her dress as he did so with his hood and weapons.

They are vulnerable, but they have never felt so safe.

“Who taught you to be everything you are.”

Although, Damian never removes his gaze, he knows that his lover gazes up at him with admiration as if he hung the stars.

All he did was merely give back, something that his father and brothers have done far longer than he has.

“To be strong, to know justice, to do good”, she continues, as she begins to roll her small frame over his larger one. She takes the chance to kiss his lips before sitting up under the sheet, lifting one arm up to see him better.

“To be compassionate.” She kisses him. “Brave.” She kisses him again. _“Charming.”_

His lover leans down to only to hover her lips above his before pulling away teasingly to await his answer.

Damian smiles gently as he takes in her mischievous, dimpled grin and adoring eyes. Despite all that, he knows he could not indulge her in his life anymore.

“I suppose...everyone”, he answers truthfully, before he slowly pulls her down to capture her lips once more.

He supposes that it was his mother and grandfather’s upbringing to be strong, to take what needs to be taken, whether it was their birthright or a life.

He supposes that it was his father’s code and watching him sacrifice everything to save their city that can’t be saved to know how unfair justice can be.

He supposes it was the help of the friends he made and the brothers he leaned on, who fought by his side as he continued his father’s legacy to be compassionate.

Brave? That was something he had always known, but he mastered it as his enemies taught him the fear of losing his family and the pain of losing himself and everything he now stands for.

Everything he stands for was to redeem himself from his past as weapon to a savior with so much more to lose than his life. His family, his friends, and now her — the girl in his arms, who kisses him so sweetly that it was addicting.

_Now as for charming... he certainly learned a thing or two from his father. That scoundrel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Zacari's "Redemption Interlude"
> 
> a short chapter for a short song. the song choice was inspired by the Son of Batman comic where Maya Ducard says that the 'R' doesn't stand for ruin, but redemption.
> 
> I really did try to follow this prompt lol, and hopefully I hinted enough at their vigilante. and the time setting is pretty ambiguous, as well. so it could be modern or set in whenever robin hood was set in. although I did not mention her name, the woman is marinette. this chapter just happened to be damian-centric.
> 
> as another side note, this is pretty much all I have, and I may update with a few more chapters by the weekend or next week.


	9. neuf. might just be my everything and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, soulmate.

neuf. might just be my everything and beyond // soulmate

* * *

Her white wings lift her up just a bit higher to peer over the window sill of the manor.

A crimson string tied delicately to her pinky is pulled taught, and on the other end, the tan teen snaps his head up to glare right at her. A brilliant smile blooms on her face at the thought of her other half being able to see her, but the tan boy merely squints at her in irritation before returning his novel.

Marinette sighs before flying higher and floating beside him. She can see the hair on the back of his neck rise, but he does not acknowledge her presence. It was not like he could see her anyways.

After all, she is his guardian angel. His protector and soulmate — not that he is aware of any of that. She along with the the crimson thread that ties the two together remains strong and invisible to the human.

Oftentimes, she is grateful to remain unseen by humans — her soulmate, especially. She doubts that he would ever allow himself to be vulnerable with a near and complete stranger. But he is no stranger to her.

Ever since she felt a tug at her heart with a string wrapped around her pinky pull her to Gotham. A city that most of her brothers and sisters had abandoned after branding it “irredeemable”— Marinette had followed the twists and turns throughout the city, taking note of the severe darkness seeping through every corner. Her string had lead her just outside of outskirts of their skyline, and into the maze of caves until she found _him_ , dressed in a dark maroon and green with an even brighter red knot at the end of his pinky.

He was arguing with a man in black, who she soon came to know as his father. When she gave an experimental tug of the string, heimmediately stopped his speech, glaring around all over the improvised cave. His silence and sudden alertness caused his father along with his brothers to be vigilant, before her soulmate had shook his head and wave off their concerns.

Marinette flew closer, watching as his body tensed more, but he still could not find her. She smiled when he finally removed the green mask, revealing his intense eyes that still held the ancient green magic. Her mate scowled in her direction, but Marinette could not help but giggle at his confusion, admiring his strong jaw and full lips.

The angel smiles fondly at the memories as she watches his eye twitch at her floating presence. He is devilishly handsome — something that he had gotten from his father — and charming when he actually wants to be — something he had learned from his brothers. But Marinette suppose that his whole niche is to be the arrogant, aloof type, something that she was strangely attracted to.

“Damian.” Both their head snap to see his father standing in the doorway of the library, with an elderly butler by his side.

“Suit up. Dick and Tim called needing backup at the pier. Jason’s already en route.”

Damian sighs, while placing a pen between the pages, before following after his father, who have left. The butler — Alfred, she remembers — patiently waits after the teen.

Marinette hovers closer to see the title of _The Alchemist_ , and with great curiosity, she calls for the wind to quickly flip through the pages until she nears her mate’s bookmark, smiling and giggling at Damian’s condescending annotations of _pretentious_ and _expected_.

She notices that he had underlined the sentences with exaggerated question marks and labeling them as _trite_ and _unoriginal_. Nevertheless, she still grins because he noticed the lines she would have found romantic.

“Is there a problem, Master Damian?” Alfred calls out, and Marinette jumps, remembering that it did seem unnatural for the pages to turn over that fast.

She spins to discover the elderly man raising a brow at her mate, but Damian glares right through her at the novel on the side table.

“No”, he answers, studying the room carefully for anything else out of place. But of course, he will not see her, and she smiles sadly as he leaves not saying another word to the man.

Alfred strides into the roof to shut the windows quietly and tsks as he picks up Damian’s new novel, replacing the novel with an actual bookmark.

“To whoever you are”, the man suddenly speaks aloud, causing her to freeze because _no one_ had ever addressed her directly before. Not even, Damian, who only glowered when he sensed her. Marinette flies closer to the wise man, directly staring at his face. Yet, he only looks through her, once more, while his eyes calmly scan the room.

“Continue to protect, Master Damian”, he finishes with a knowing smile. Marinette grins and presses a gentle kiss upon the older man’s cheek, before flying off after her mate.

If she had stayed a moment longer, she would have noticed that the man slowly raised a hand to his cheek, blinking and slowly grinning in disbelief.

_What do you know?_ he thinks, noticing a pearly feather on the floor _._

_She does exist._

* * *

Marinette was not expecting their battle to be as heavy and challenging as it was.

And it worries her because even the Dark Knight seems to be overwhelmed as he takes another moment to breathe before diving back into the fray of lifeless assassins attacking his boys.

She flies closer to the oldest one — _Dick —_ whispering a quick blessing to help heal his bruised ribs as he swings his escrima sticks to cover their father’s back. She, then, flies off to the leaner brother — _Tim_ , she reminds herself —with a cut, bloody lip to change the direction of a knife that would have definitely impaled his shoulder.

Marinette frantically looks around, only to immediately change the directions of the bullets aimed at the brother with a white streak in his hair — _Jason_ , she thinks, _his name is Jason_.

But where — _where?_ — was her Damian?

“Robin!” she hears the Dark Knight yell, glaring up at the lifting crane as her soulmate chases after the only living assassin — the one behind all this.

“Talon!” she hears Damian rage as his katana meets with the other man’s sword. Her soulmate stumbles a bit as he loses balance before recovering for to bring his blade back to clash again with the man. The man on the other hand, plays dirty and pulls a hidden knife to bring it down onto Damian’s shoulder.

She bites her lip immediately to keep from screaming, as she feels something wet and warm leak from her shoulder. She looks down and whispers another blessing to help sew up the wound.

Marinette is just about to soar up to him, before she hears the creaking of the metal storage containers. Her eyes look back to see one of the man’s minions use a lift to knock over the metal crate right on top of Damian’s family.

There was no way for them to escape, as the assassins were willing to sacrifice themselves to keep her soulmate’s father and brothers under.

_Wait for me,_ she silently pleads to Damian, ignoring how he muffles his angered cries as she feels another sharp pain in her back, right where her wings are.

With a cry, she calls for the wind to help push the crate away from the Dark Knight as he practically throws himself over his boys.

There is a loud bang, and she breathes heavily in relief as she floats down with painful wings to where the family look on shocked.

“Do you think a meta is at play, here?” Tim asks, kicking away at another assassin. He sounds tired, but Marinette does not have enough energy to give them the last of her strength.

She barely hears the family’s possible answers as they swing their weapons, their arms, and shoot at the never ending enemies.

The angel collapses to the ground, suddenly feeling heavier as her wings curl in on the growing wet stain on her back.

Her eyes drift back to the crane as she takes in her soulmate still engaged in battle. His hood and belt now removed and lost to reveal a painful gash at his back.

Marinette raises her hand, the one that connects her to him, and tugs at the bloody thread, trying to pull him away. She can sense that he has been pushed to his utter limit, and she could only hope that he retreats to help his family.

But of course, her soulmate just has to be the stubborn one, and continue his battle with the enemy, despite how much their backs and shoulder burned at every movement and thrust.

“Damian”, she whispers tired and hopeful, and she watches as he stiffens, only to be kicked off the crane at his moment of hesitation.

Her eyes widen, and she sits up despite the fire in her muscles as he catches onto the bar at the last minute and hangs meters over the waters. He tries to pull himself up, but the wound in his shoulder is not completely healed, yet, and he helplessly hangs back down with a groan. The enemy walks confidentially kneeling before him. He looks as if he is taunting him while twirling a knife, as her soulmate struggles to hold on.

She could hear his family call out his name — his birth name and the name that he had rightfully earned when he fought by their sides — but they still remain occupied by the other undead assassins, as they tug to keep them away from saving him.

There is a painful pull at her wings and a ringing in her ears as Marinette pushes herself up to fly to him. She tries to call for the wind, but they are just as exhausted as she is.

_Don’t._

And Marinette pauses because that is a voice she recognizes, yet, never heard before. She knows that powerful voice and cries that she finally hears _them_ and cries because _they_ order her to stop.

_Why,_ she thinks, as she moves to fly up to Damian. _Why can’t I save them? Is that not an angel’s purpose? Am I not an angel?_

But they are not sympathetic as they continue.

_These are the demons, who prolong this city’s suffering._

_I don’t understand_ , but Marinette whimpers because she does. As long her soulmate and his family remain a tangible hope for the city, the more Gotham will birth new demons to go against them. That is this city’s curse — to spread pain and hopelessness, no matter how much it hurts her people, no matter how much it hurts her.

_You do._ And Marinette cries harder as she feels the pull of her wings tear at her skin as she closes the distance. The string on her pinky pulling taught and thinning.

She sees the man place and lock a red beeping device far too close to her other half, and Damian’s eyes widen at the sight of it. Yet, the man leaps off the crane, pulling out a rope to swing himself onto a crate, retreating away.

The calls of Damian’s name is too loud, but his family are still pulled and beaten by the lifeless fighters.

_You understand that the end of these demons is the end of Gotham._

“Yes!” she cries, sobbing at how her body and wings feel like lead, but she still pushes through. She is almost there, but then he lets go as the device explodes breaking off parts of the crane and pushing his unconscious body further down and into her arms.

She catches him, but it’s not enough to slow his descent into the water.

_Don’t save him. Let this city find peace. Let him go, or you will lose your place in the sky._

“No!” she screams, forcing her wings to move, but she can barely feel them anymore. Her hands pull him closer to her body to shield him from his _their_ fate.

_Marinette._ The voice calls out to her, but she only glares at the sky to where she knows they reside and watch. The waters are coming up fast, and she shifts to ensure that she will take most of the impact.

_“Then, take them”,_ Marinette snarls up at the stars and the moon.

And she screams as something rips her soul in half, and she is left with the empty space of where her wings once were. Her body feels like lead, as gravity pulls her much faster than before. But Damian is safe with her, and their string, so bloody crimson, feels tighter around her pinky

That’s all she can think of as her wingless, broken body hits the water and consumes them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Leon Bridges' "Beyond".
> 
> Angel!Marinette. Part 1/2.
> 
> super late, but i'll try to finish this little challenge as much as I can, even if it is half-assed and confusing
> 
> "The Alchemist" is a great and very spiritual read. highly recommend!


	10. dix. fall like your favorite season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, fluff.

dix. fall like your favorite season // fluff

* * *

It’s been a year since she had turned into a mortal, yet, Marinette discovered that one of her favorite things to do was to latch herself onto her soulmate — not because she craved warmth and attention (even though, she doesn’t mind the two) — but because it irritated him.

“Are you sure you’re not a succubus”, Damian huffs, pretending to be agitated, as she clings to his chest like a koala. But she knows better when she spots the slight amusement in his eyes and lips.

Moments before, she happened to spot him reading on the chaise of his study, and before he could blink, she jumped onto him, earning a groan as she accidentally kneed his hip.

“So what if I am?” she hums, rubbing her cheeks into his shirt.

“You could have fooled me”, he rolls his eyes, and returns to his book. “You certainly leech of my life force like one.”

Marinette giggles, pressing her thighs tighter around his torso.

“What are you reading, my beloved?” She asks, taking in his flushed cheeks, despite his irritated scowl.

“A story about a detective traveling to alternate universes and fixing anomalies”, he answered, bookmarking his page with a pen.

“Sounds interesting”, she hums, lazily grinning up at him. “Is there love?”

“Yes”, he answers, his lips quirk up just a bit. A large hand moves to stroke her hair to one side of her shoulder. “Very like you to focus on the romance aspect instead of the adventures of science fiction.”

“I like love.” Marinette plops her head back onto his chest, and closes her eyes listening to the sound of his heart beat.

Naturally, she feels his calloused fingers trace over the raised skin on her neck.

A few months ago, she had practically dragged her soulmate to a tattoo parlor and asked for them to draw a small set of wings on the back of her neck.

It was a cartoonish, simple line art that she absolutely adored and practically teared up when she glanced at it in the mirror. It was a little homage to who she once was.

“It will be one year”, she mentions, with her eyes closed. He stiffens under her, and her fingers go to massage his arms, hoping he would just relax.

“One year since I first met you”, Marinette finishes, as she brings his free hand to her lips. She gently press kisses into the inside of his palm, yet, his fingers move to cradle her cheek.

She looks up at him to see that crease between his brows and a frown marring his handsome face.

“Tell me about your wings”, he says suddenly. “I— I have only ever heard from Dick and them, but even then, they were still struggling to accept that you appeared out of thin air to save me that night.”

Marinette blinks for a moment before a smile pulls at her cheeks.

“They were the prettiest wings”, she reminisces calmly as her fingers trace patterns into his skin. “My brothers and sisters said that they were so bright and pearly that it would glow a soft pink or a delicate blue and maybe even gold in the light.”

“I loved them a lot, but I got hurt that night, and my body had to relinquish them.” Damian’s frown furrows even more, as she feels to keep the sadness from her voice.

“They won’t grow back, but it’s okay”, she tries for a smile to get him to reciprocate. “I have you there to catch me.”

“Yeah.” He agrees as a corner of his lips curl up, but there’s a storm within his eyes as he tries to convey something to her. Marinette thinks she understands and her face flushes at the look he gives her because although he will not admit it outright, he still says it in a way that warms her her heart.

“Just leap. And I’ll always be there to catch you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from H.E.R.'s "Every Kind of Way"
> 
> Angel!Marinette Part 2/2
> 
> i'm not good at fluff haha.


	11. onze. before it turns into a glacier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, snow.

onze. before it turns into a glacier // snow

* * *

With a final bow, Marinette looked over the crowd, lips set into the perfect, thankful smile as she stood proudly on the stage.

Her eyes followed up to the balcony seats to where she knew he would be sitting, and her heart clenched to find it empty. Nevertheless, her gaze quickly darted back to the admiring audience, who tossed pink, white, and red roses in her direction.

The curtains were finally drawn, but the applauds of the audience could still be heard. Many of her other fellow dancers, stage hands, and the director surrounded her to congratulate and compliment her perfect and wild execution of Odile and Odette.

They were all especially impressed considering how she was a junior understudy, who had taken the role a few weeks prior when the prima ballerina had to leave town for a mental health break.

Even so, they all encouraged her, despite their initial misgivings, as Marinette began to prove herself, taking in every critique and minute detail in stride.

“We may just have to hire you full-time, Marinette”, the director winked, smiling gratefully down at her. “I have other shows I would like for you to audition for next season.”

Ignoring the choked pain she felt, Marinette agreed, promising to audition before they all left to their dressing rooms. Her coworkers offered an invitation to celebrate with drinks after, but Marinette declined, excusing herself, as exhausted and in desperate need of the rest. Naturally, they all understood, as they, themselves, witnessed how much the young woman poured her blood, sweat, and tears into the production.

The girl had never felt more grateful to have been given a private dressing room, as she gently shut the door, and leaned back against it.

A lone tear of frustration escaped her, before she angrily wiped at it with the inside of her palm.

Damian was busy — as always. Marinette knew that, she understood that. She was _used_ to it.

So why — _why?_ — why was this any different.

_It’s because he broke his promise_ , the voice in her head rudely remarked. _He promised to show up, and he didn’t_.

Marinette whimpered in self-pity, before lightly slapping her cheeks to form a happy semblance of herself. Besides, she _should_ be happy, being one of the youngest prima ballerinas to perform at an important production in the theatre. She still had other things to smile about, and she can always cry in the comforts of her bed later.

So, with a deep breath and another grin that was not as forced as the last ones, Marinette changed to prepare for her walk back to the manor.

Dressed in a trench coat, heels and her celebratory party dress (she did plan to celebrate after, but that was before she noticed her partner’s absence from the seats), Marinette treaded in the cold Gotham air, flinching each time a snowflake managed to get caught in her lashes or melted on her cheek.

The streets were quiet save for the few cars and groups of Gothamites racing by to get to a warm shelter. Not many stores were still open, yet, the few bars and restaurants that were, showed the warm atmosphere through their windows. Marinette busied herself by watching as groups of friends and couples laughed and talked animatedly amongst themselves.

She smiled softly, wondering when was the last time she was out enjoying her time with loved ones. Even before the ballet production, Marinette was always quite lonesome within the manor, having no one aside from Titus and both Alfred’s (the cat and the butler) keeping her company.

Her thoughts started taking a sad turn — remembering all the times that Damian had to reschedule or never showed up at all. She was starting to think he was avoiding her in the manor, but that was until she realized that his brothers and father were hardly there, as well.

She was lonely; and she wished that she had simply gone back home to Paris after her two-year exchange program in Gotham. She wished that she could have tried a long distance relationship with Damian before offering to move in his city.

And then, those wishes vanished only to be replaced by guilt as Marinette felt the wet build up of tears again. In frustration, she yanked at the ribbon and hair tie that holds up her no-nonsense bun to let down the messy strands around her face.

She knew what she was getting into when she offered to move and find her place in Gotham. She thought that maybe she could handle all the waiting and no-shows because she loved Damian.

Ever since their old professor had paired the two up for a project, they found how well they worked together. She was one of the few he tolerated and the only one he could tolerate for long periods of time. He was the one, who begrudgingly accepted her terms of friendship, considering how she pretended to not speak any English and tricked him into being her translator.

They never defined what they were when Marinette first kissed him and he reciprocated. Not when he would sneak into her host family’s home and muffle her giggles and moans with a smug kiss. Not when they played video games in their underwear as their clothes laid forgotten.

They just _knew_.

Marinette remembered how she excitedly told him about how she was accepted for a part-time position at a cat cafe, along with an audition in Gotham’s ballet company (which she obviously got).

She remembered, looking for apartments that she could reside in and wondering if her co-workers needed a roommate, only for Damian to wrinkle his nose and tell her to just stay at the manor with him, considering how his family already adored her.

Marinette stopped in her tracks, feeling the wetness on her face. She looked up from her place on the empty sidewalk to see that the snow still fell lightly, but melted almost immediately.

Her hands reached up to feel the water on her cheeks, finally registering that she may have cried more than she wanted to. Feeling embarrassed that she was doing something so private in public, she went up to her reflection in a car window and used her sleeves to dry her face, carefully wiping away any of the smudged make-up.

Three sudden shadows dropped next to her, and she almost shrieked when she comes face to face with three masked men. Her heart only calmed down when she recognized them to be the bird-themed vigilantes she had seen in videos and from afar.

“Hello, Miss!” Nightwing greeted cheerfully, and Marinette thought it was odd that his smile appeared a bit uneasy. “We noticed that you seemed to be troubled, and we wanted to know if you are all right.”

Marinette, in her shock, nodded, eyeing them warily. Red Hood, despite his full mask, had been antsy, while Red Robin looked anywhere at her.

She wondered why the heroes looked so...guilty.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” came the modified voice of Red Hood.

“...Yes.”

“We’re more than just beating up criminals”, Red Robin said, flinching a bit at the desperation in his tone. “We like to ensure that our citizens are doing fine.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” Marinette shook her head. She did not want to expose her problems to strangers on the street.

“We saw you... crying, Miss”, Nightwing started awkwardly. “And we just wanted to know if there is any possible thing that we can do to make your night better.”

The noirette flushed because how embarrassing that the heroes managed to see her so vulnerable.

She felt her mouth quiver and almost began to cry again before the three all panicked, awkwardly moving to comfort her.

“Please don’t cry.”

“We’re really sorry for pressing the issue. We’ll shut up, now.”

“I can launch him into a store. Will that make you feel better?”

Marinette only shook her head, smiling slightly at Hood’s offer before, frowning again.

“It’s okay. I’m just contemplating about some things right now.”

“Are they work things or relationship things?” Red Robin coughed.

“One of those things”, Marinette smiled bitterly. “I just feel a little neglected, right now. My... friend was supposed to watch my performance.”

Red Hood froze as did Nightwing and Red Robin, before they all turned to press a finger to their ear and angrily began speaking to themselves. Marinette gave them a funny look, not able to make out what they were saying, before they all turned back to surprise her in a group hug.

“You’re fine, Miss”, they reassured, and she immediately relaxed into them because it had been so long since she had other other physical contact and comfort.

“I am, really”, she chuckled lightly. “I am allowed to be frustrated with him, right?”

“You are”, Nightwing reassured her, glaring up at the rooftops.

“I mean I know he cares about me”, she said, feeling the need to defend him, but then she remembered how he failed to show on such a major event in her ballet career.

“He doesn’t say it”, she scoffed along with Red Hood and Red Robin.

“Yet, he shows it”, her voice got softer as she remembered the times he came home and went straight to her room, to hold her as he knocked out. It was rare to see Damian that p[en, and she knew that what he feels for her is true. She missed him, she really missed him. Marinette felt like crying.

“I just want to be with him”, the noirette finished softly. The heroes looked on sadly, offering weak smiles of encouragement.

“Mari!” Her head snapped up at the sound of her name, and she turned to find Damian in his suit, running towards her with a wrinkled bouquet of pink flowers in his hand. His hair had been combed haphazardly, and she laughed, despite herself, because she had never seen him look so frazzled before.

He practically tackled her as he raised her up into a swing, and out of instinct, Marinette locked her legs behind his back to keep from slipping out of his grasp. She watched how the vigilantes took a step back, quietly bidding farewell, as they all leapt away into the night.

“I love you”, he whispered into her ear, and she felt how warm his breath was compared to the wintery air.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I love you. I love you.”

Her cheeks hurt too much from smiling so hard, and she hid her mouth into the wet snowflakes that landed on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I love you, too”, she said, tilting her chin to press a kiss into his neck. Despite him not showing up, she always felt incredibly happy in these moments when he does. And maybe, that was enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Ant Saunder's "Yellow Hearts".
> 
> i should have used this for the dancer au prompt lol, but oh well.


	12. douze. and they call it puppy love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, animals.

douze. and they call it puppy love // animals

* * *

“No.” Damian deadpanned as he eyed Marinette and her exaggerated pout.

Yet, she only huffed as she tried to pick up the very large, short-haired dog, that began to lick at her chin.

“Please”, she tried again, eyes tearing up as the dog pulled away to lull its tongue out.

“No, Marinette”, Damian sighed, before glaring at the pitbull. “That’s the dog that bit you, isn’t she?”

“So what?” Marinette scoffed, rolling her eyes. “And besides, it was my fault for accidentally cornering her. Lady and I are pass that now.”

“The point is that Lady may still be dangerous, and she may not have any of her shots, yet.”

“I already took her to the vet and got her chipped.” Damian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose because _of course she did._

“Did you even talk to my father?”

“Better, I talked to Alfred. He said yes.”

“Marinette.”

“Dami, please. I love her.”

“No, I’m not letting an animal that hurt you into the manor. I don’t have time to train her and see how well she gets along with Titus, Alfred, and Batcow — don’t laugh at Batcow’s name, Marinette. We’ve been over this.”

Damian scolded as the dog squirmed out of Marinette’s giggling grasp. He watched unimpressed as the dog sniffed the area before relieving herself right by his kawasaki bike. He wants to sigh again.

“Sorry”, Marinette breathed. “It’s just hard to keep a straight face when you say Batcow’s name all serious.”

_“_ Marinette _”,_ he groaned in exasperation.

“Okay, but Lady is staying.”

_“Marinette.”_

“I’ll train her, Dami”, she tried to convince him, only to receive another unimpressed stare.

“No, you’ll _spoil_ her. And then I’ll be the one having to do damage control with my father after Lady accidentally knocks down the china cabinet or chews up and urinate all of his antique furniture.”

“Bruce knows that the manor has been through worse. Besides, Lady is already docile and the sweetest girl once she got out of that cramped shelter. And she needs a home, love.”

Her puppy eyes were back, and surprisingly enough, Lady moved by her side to match her new owner’s face. It was the most adorable fucking thing he had ever seen, and _damn it_.

“Fine”, he relented, thinking of ways to maneuver his schedule so he could help his girlfriend train ~~their new child~~ _her new dog_.

And she cheered, kneeling down to give belly rubs to the new addition to the manor. Lady merely lied on her back accepting all the spoils her mama gives.

Damian smiled softly and kneeled down, too, gently rubbing at Lady’s boxy head; and he most definitely doesn’t chuckle as Lady lulled her tongue out to give his hand plenty of doggy kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Paul Anka's "Puppy Love".
> 
> very corny, i know.
> 
> i researched and found that pit bulls and other pit bull breeds are banned in France and other parts of Europe 🥺. it's really sad due to the gross misconception that these dogs are inherently violent (not true!) and are banned due to fear or their uses in dog fighting and abuse. i saw a fic where marinette adopts a german shepherd (forgot who), but I also feel that she may even adopt some of the most mistreated dogs and give them the love they deserve


	13. treize. you can be free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, death.

treize. you can be free // death

* * *

Marinette stirred from her sleep, as she heard the familiar rhythm of his footsteps enter the room. Her eyes slowly opened to find his form removing his emerald robes and tunic from place, to reveal the aged scars on his muscled back leading to the countless tattoos warring off evils and misfortune.

She held her breath, feeling every nerve of of her being freeze at the sight of him as fear and obedience naturally take over.

He _knows_ she was awake, and, yet, he ignored her in favor of unfastening the last of his hidden knives to lay on her vanity.

The man, she had come to known in the past year as _husband_ , sighed deeply before turning to her with those cold green eyes.

_“Did I wake you?”_ , he asked in that monotoned voice, and she felt herself jump at the sudden attention. Her hands immediately reached for the swell of her stomach, and she quickly shook her head.

Marinette closed her eyes, hoping to quell the shaking in her breaths, softly inhaling through her nose for seconds before releasing it.

When she opened her eyes once more, she was met with her husband and the furrow in his brows. Despite the slight frown marred into his features, his green eyes only held concern as his attention focused on her stomach that she held so protectively.

Her hands went slack against her stomach as she realized that she held her body and her — no, _their_ child so close to herself and away from him.

He moved closer ignoring how her body naturally tensed at his proximity and sat on the edge of their bed, hand raising slowly to hover over her swelled stomach.

_“May I?”_ , he whispered softly. And Marinette choked, still not used to his change of demeanor around her. Nevertheless, she nodded, pulling at the blanket for him to feel her stomach.

Marinette was reminded of when the news first broke out of their expectancy.

Damian, her husband who hardly ever spoke to her throughout their three months of marriage, had asked then if he could touch her still-flat stomach.

An associate of his and his mother had overheard and scoffed at the mere idea of a man — whether husband or father — ask to touch something that belonged to him.

Damian, merely moved in front of her, before launching a knife against the man’s chest.

Now, she watched carefully as the same hand used to kill that man among many others, tentatively rested on the skin below her chest and slid carefully to her navel. His dark eyes focused so intently on her belly, that it was almost endearing.

There was a sudden kick just below his palm, that made them flinch in surprise.

_“Are you all right?”_ She nodded, shifting a bit to sit up, as their child pushes against her stomach and ribs.

_“What’s wrong?”_ he whispered, moving closer to her, but she shook her head, frowning at the discomfort within her.

_“He’s moving too much”,_ Marinette answered meekly, and she was met with silence as she focused on trying not to whimper in pain.

Signs of weakness was practically forbidden in his family, and she learned that far too early when his mother had picked her out of the handful of girls in the monastery.

_“You are weak”, the woman had said, as she walked around her still frame, before nodding in approval. “Don’t let anyone other than me know that.”_

And then, she was taken and dressed to wed her son. Handsome as he was, the man hardly spared her a glance as he frowned or scowled at anyone or anything. The only time Marinette had saw something remotely different to his deadly glare was when she would catch him staring off distantly or, now, as he eyed her grimaced pain in concern.

Their child’s kicking had resided, and she breathed out audibly, relaxing for a moment until she met his eyes again.

Within that moment, Marinette thought she saw a look of guilt flash in his face until it was replaced with the same expressionless feeling she was used to seeing.

_“Go to sleep”,_ he said, his tone final as he moved away from her and towards the bathroom. The door clicked with a shut, and she laid down and turned towards her side. Her hands reached towards her stomach again to feel their child kick once, twice before stopping, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Her heart squeezed painfully, knowing her and her child’s exact faith. Once they are born, she will be tossed away for having completed her duty to supply them an heir.

And their child will be trained by his father and grandmother to become a killer, the reaper — Death, itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Kehlani's "Alive (featuring Coucheron)".
> 
> a damian al ghul au! Part 1/2
> 
> which is basically what happens if Damian returned to/stayed with Talia to inherit the league. in here, talia wants her son to continue their lineage, but is afraid of him and his wife staging a coup since his loyalty to her is misguided due to his father's influence. instead of having her grandchild grow in an incubator like how damian was, she wants his wife to naturally give birth to keep damian grounded by their side


	14. quatorze. no one man should have all that power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, power.

quatorze. no one man should have all that power // power

* * *

Damian made sure to wipe his hands free of the blood and dirt before entering their room.

Despite Marinette never admitting it, he was well aware of her displeasure with his family’s occupation, which was why he did well to keep her away from everyone associated with the League, including himself.

Marinette was a meek, small thing — a perfect burden for him and a perfect daughter-in-law for his mother, who was cautious of any alliance that could usurp her hold over the organization.

His mother was well aware of his change in morality, and he begrudgingly stayed to watch over and protect his new wife, as many of his enemies began to plan his and her assassination.

Some were even hired from his mother to keep him busy and far away from his plans of escaping back to Gotham.

He pitied Marinette, knowing damn well, that she lived in fear of him and his family, everyday. Thus, he remained distant, except for the nights he would return to their room to find her peacefully asleep. Lately, she had taken to cradle her growing stomach, shielding their child protectively as she slept.

Except, for this night, when he had exhaustively moved into the room, not bothering to muffle his steps. Another assassin had tried to enter their bedroom, but Damian had stopped him just in time, before leaving it to his subordinates.

He knew the moment she was fully awake as he heard her silent intake of breath and internally sighed at how much fear passed in her eyes. Yet, Damian could not blame the young woman, given his and his mother’s reputation.

Nevertheless, he still tried to ease her worry that he would _never_ harm her, even if it was through silent stares and clipped questions about her well-being, especially since she was now with their child thanks to artificial insemination.

When she had doubled over in pain as their child continuously kicked and pushed against her walls, his hand tentatively reached to massage her back, before retracting. Nonetheless, he eyed her in concern wondering if she would be able to withstand their escape down the mountain.

Damian never once mentioned his plan to her in risk of someone hearing, but he knew that she felt the closest thing to comfort to him rather than anyone else. However, he was positive that Marinette would follow him to free their child from the inevitable, rather than stay with his mother and the League.

But then a thought suddenly crossed his mind on. the rare chance that Marinette decides to _stay_ due to the fear for her life or their child’s. His initial reaction is to leave her behind to make this escape as easier as possible.

And then, guilt overcame him because he cannot abandon Marinette or their child to the hands of his mother.

He looked to her to see the dark shadows under her light eyes as a frown begins to form on her pretty face.

_“Go to sleep”,_ he found himself ordering as he went into the bathroom and away from her. He closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath gripping at the door handle. His eyes opened and landed on his own reflection in the mirror.

_She’s going_ , Damian decided, as he glared at the countless scars that littered his body, many that he had received from his mother, grandfather, and trainers.

He wouldn’t let what happened to him, happen to Marinette nor their child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from (old) Kanye West's Power.
> 
> damian al ghul au! Part 2/2
> 
> i didn't have any ideas on what to write for a power swap au, so I just made this a pov swap from chapter 13.


	15. quinze. imagine a world like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, if only.

quinze. imagine a world like that // if only

* * *

There is a resounding clang as another wine glass toppled to the marble floor. Laughter follows as the elite and cream of the crop laugh and wave off their messes in drunken stupor, the waiters, her coworkers, dressed in all black attire already cleaning the spilt wine.

She uses the opportunity to escape from the guest’s grasp, holding the empty platter tightly to her chest, as she smiles politely at her harasser.

Yet, the guest presses on, placing a gold key card, belonging to the hotel’s penthouse suite.

“Come see me after this, sweetheart”, the man with platinum hair and scars on his neck winks at her, and it takes all of Marinette’s will to not shiver at him in disgust, as she shoves her new “gifts” into her dress pocket and leaving.

Nevertheless, her mouth curl up in faux politeness as if she _wants_ to be there. As if she wants to be serving wine while politely waving off drunken handsy guests that grab at her exposed thighs and to be at the rich people’s beck and call for every need, involving appetizers, alcohol, and the like.

When in actuality, all she truly wants is to _get paid_.

She returns to the kitchens of the hotel to dump the glasses and restock her tray of other alcohols.

Her manager is no where to be found, and she suspects that they may be out for a smoke break after all the high stress induced from catering such a party in Gotham. It’s not everyday, that a big name business contracts their small catering group, and because of that Marinette along with the Claude and Mercury had to put on their best customer service.

Speaking of them, she hardly seen the two since the recent wine accident; and judging from how the platters of food piling up on the serving table, it seemed that the chefs haven’t seen the two either.

_“Merde!”_ The head chef angrily glares at the food waiting to be served, and promptly turns his gaze towards Marinette, already spewing curse words in their native tongue.

“Don’t worry, Pierre”, Marinette tries for a small smile. “There was a spill earlier, and they are probably still cleaning it up.”

Despite her reassurance, Pierre leaves back to grumble about how unreliable the two are, and Marinette sighs in relief only to be irked with the two servers’ sudden absences.

Setting down the tray to smooth her dress and hair, Marinette walks back into ballroom and pretends as if she is another guest, smiling respectfully at anyone who meets her eye. When no one is looking, she scans the area for the two waiters, finding no sign of them.

A quiet curse leaves her lips, and her mind runs through all the possibilities on where the two could be.

Bathroom? No one in there as she subtly took a peek inside. Out on the roof? No, not when their manager was there. Lobby? Nope, too many security.

Marinette sighs, as she turns the corner of a hallway, only to be met with the backs of two strangers, but what made her pause in her steps was how she recognized their attire to be of their catering uniform, yet, she didn’t recognize the waiters.

The two glance at her before moving towards the ballroom, and in that moment, she was fairly positive that they were not Claude and Mercury.

Rather than a messy brunet with a loud smile, the man has jet black hair, tossled perfectly with heavy bags under his eye. He was leaner than Claude, yet, she can see the hints of muscle in his arm as he filled out the sleeves.

As for the tanner man that was most definitely not Mercury, instead of the neat curls with a tapered fade, this man’s hair was straighter as he smoothed it up. Not to mention that his skin was shades lighter than Mercury’s rich brown. He was taller than her coworker, and she could see how the uniform slightly stretched against his chest, the buttons looking as if he breathed wrong, it might snap.

Blinking out of her stupor at who they possibly could be, Marinette jogs up to them, making sure the two heard the clacks of her heels.

“Excuse me”, she calls out, and pauses as the two spin to look at her. They remain silent, yet, their eyes are cold and calculating as they look over her. Naturally, Marinette takes a step back, before hesitantly asking them.

“Do you know what happened to Claude and Mercury?”

“No”, the taller man, with sharp green eyes answers, and he turns to leave with the other man.

“But why are you wearing their uniforms?” she questions aloud, making the two halt in their steps. The leaner one is the first to look back at her with a polite smile ready.

“We were called in from your manager and asked to fill in for the two servers. We didn’t ask why.”

Marinette blinks, thinking that something was off. Nonetheless, she nods slowly because they were already understaff as it is..

“Well, you two are using the wrong entrance”, she speaks a matter-of-factly. “The kitchen is this way, and Pierre is already peeved at the amount of appetizers backed up.”

She watches as the have a silent conversation, before both look resigned. Still skeptical of the substitute servers, she gestures for them to go first, and they begrudgingly comply.

After Marinette eyes them wearily was they whisper far too quietly for her to hear, she successfully directs them to the kitchen, where the three are met with a bombardment of curses from the chef.

_“Pierre! Claude and Mercury had to go home!”_ Marinette smiles reassuringly, while she hands a tray of appetizers to the leaner man and a tray of champagne to the other. _“I was just getting their replacements.”_

The chef scowls at the two, while the taller man scowls back. Pierre looks surprised for a moment, yet, he gives an indignant sniff, retracing further back into the kitchen.

“Don’t mind Pierre”, Marinette smiles sheepishly at the two, while picking up her own tray of wine. “He’s just a grumpy old man.”

The two say nothing, and she awkwardly coughs before nodding towards the swinging doors to the ballroom.

Using her back, she holds the door open for them and watch as they file out into the room.

Marinette frowns as they perfectly serve the guests, passing out glasses and presenting foods in the most gentlemanly manner despite the bored looks on their faces. She has to admit that the two seemed like professionals as each guest laughed and flirted with the two strangers, who merely nodded politely to serve the next guest.

The noirette feels another hand placed on her lower back, and with practiced skill, she twists out of their grasp, making sure to tuck the empty tray closer to her before smiling politely at the guest.

Yet, this one was just as handsy as the Italian man as he smiled predatorily down at her, reaching to take a hold of her arm.

But just before the drunk guest grabs at her, a tray of champagne is placed between her and the man.

“Champagne?” the tanner server asks almost bored, as he eyes them, his glare hardening at the guest.

The drunk awkwardly shakes his head, before staggering back closer to the other guests.

Marinette breathes another sigh of relief, sending a small thank you to her coworker, only for him to raise a brow and turn back to the crowds.

Eyeing him from his side profile, Marinette can tell that he most certainly was not _bad looking_ , and he seems to have a quiet demeanor that demanded attention from everyone in the room. Yet, what was odd is how he and his coworker silently scanned the room while mumbling something under his breath.

She found that the two actually did that quite a lot, and had even caught some part of their conversation in the kitchen when she restocked on more drinks.

“...fuck yourself, Jason”, the tanner man cursed to himself, as he entered the kitchen.

In all her shock, she merely blinks at him, giving him a weird look.

“Excuse me?”, Marinette says, catching his attention. For a brief moment, the man looks surprised until he schools his features back into that impassive look of his, slowly lowering his fingers that were pressed to his ear.

“...Not you”, he answers, avoiding her eyes as he glares at the floor.

She purses her lips to keep from laughing at his expense, and clears her throat, gaining his attention again.

“I never got your name”, Marinette says, giving a small smile before looking down back at her tray. “Or your other coworker.”

“Grayson”, he says, pointedly looking away from her.

Marinette hums, tilting her head in amusement.

“You don’t look like a Grayson.”

“And my associate is Jackson.”

“He looks like a Jackson.”

“He does, doesn't he?"

“So”, Marinette begins, “There’s Grayson, Jackson, and Jason?”

Grayson only glares at her, not saying anything; but Marinette doesn’t recoil back, laughing lightly at the irony.

“You’re all ‘son’s’”, she chuckles good-naturedly.

“I can’t help with what names we were given”, he snaps at her, but Marinette could only laugh at his irritation.

“If it helps”, she smiles at him. “My father is a baker and made my whole name into a bread pun.”

Grayson raises a brow, as his scowl lessens,

“And what is your name?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng”, she says offhandedly. “My whole name means ‘the one who rises to make bread’ or something like that.”

“Clever”, he hums, and Marinette cannot help but think of his thoughtful expression as cute.

“I’d like to think so”, she smiles, picking up her filled tray and leaving back to the ballroom.

The more she thought of this mysterious stranger throughout the night, the more she couldn’t help but think of how cute he was.

Maybe she had poor taste, considering how he only radiates anger and arrogance, but it would not hurt to try and ask him out for a date.

Her thought is interrupted as another glass is dropped off to the side. Marinette snaps her head to see Grayson picking up the broken shards, that were cleanly broken into large pieces.

Without thinking, Marinette is immediately at his side to help pick up the the pieces.

“Are you all right”, she whispers as the crowd begins to fill the air again.

“Fine”, he answers, using a rag to wipe up the champagne. “Some idiot just bumped into me is all.”

Marinette gives him a reassuring smile. “This place is full of idiots. Before you and Jackson arrived, one of the creepier guests had his room key.”

Grayson scoffs as he picks himself and the last of the mess off the floor to return back to the kitchens. Marinette follows suit, rising to her feet with the broken shards on her platter.

“And what idiot would that be?”

Marinette hums, before spotting the same man, who had been entirely too grabby.

“The man with the scars on his neck”, she answers, watching as Grayson’s eyes widen before narrowing. His sharp glare turns towards her again, and Marinette steps back in surprise at the harden look on his face.

“Do you still have the keycard he gave you?”

“Yes?” Marinette looks at him in confusion, wondering what caused his sudden change in demeanor.

“Give it.” Grayson holds out his palm, and Marinette blinks at him bewilderedly. She laughs uncomfortably, hoping to ease the sudden tension.

“Why”, she teases, despite her strained smile. “Are you hoping to meet him there?”

“Marinette”, he sighs as the two pass through the swinging doors. But Marinette ignores his exasperation, and changes the subject quickly.

“I’m going to have the frontdesk send back his card anyways”, she shrugs, dropping the broken glass into its assigned bin.

“I’ll do it for you”, Grayson answers. His eyes barely hid his concealed irritation, but there was still a genuine look of concern on his face. She wondered why the mention of a particular guest got him so riled up, but she chose not to go down her rabbit hole of a mind to come up with plausible reasons.

“Okay”, she relents, pulling the card out from her pocket. She is just about to drop it in his awaiting palm, until a thought crosses her, and she withholds the items back.

Marinette meets his agitated face as her lips curl up in a slight teasing grin again.

“Can you just answer a question for me, first?” He sighs, making her grin more.

“What is it?”

“Would you like to get drinks with me sometime, soon?” Marinette watches as he blinks, shock passing through his face.

“What?”

“Get drinks with me”, Marinette repeats, feeling somewhat embarrassed for her straightforwardness. “Or not. I don’t mind either or.”

“Why.” And Marinette laughs, giving him a disbelieving look.

“You’re kidding, right?” she smiles at his bewildered expression. “I think you’re cute.”

“That— that’s it?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“Yes?” Marinette shrugs, before looking down at the card. “I’m only looking for a yes or no. Either way, I’ll still give you this.”

Grayson studies her, and as much as she wants to recoil under his analytical stare, she doesn’t, standing as straight as possible to meet his eye.

“No”, he finally answers, and Marinette feels a shot to her ego, but nevertheless, she smiles, dropping the items into his palm.

“That’s fine”, she shrugs again, picking up another tray of drinks, and moving towards the swinging doors.

“Maybe, I’ll see you around”, she says, meeting his skeptical gaze.

“Maybe.” And she smiles charmingly at him, taking her leave.

Once out of his viewpoint, she closes her eyes, as she nurses her bruised pride, breathing in deeply and exhaling. With a small smile plastered onto her face, she continues to serve the guest as politely as she could.

She hardly sees Grayson for the rest of the night. (Nor, Jackson, now that she thought about it.)

Nevertheless, her mind wanders back to his sharp green eyes that managed to look at her in irritation, curiosity and concern all in one evening.

Marinette wonders what his eyes would have looked like if he was tipsy or if he smiled at her.

But hey — if only, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Ariana Grande's "Imagine"
> 
> if it was not clear, damian and tim are supposed to be undercover at a party marinette is catering.


	16. seize. into fairy lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, magic.

seize. into fairy lights // magic

* * *

It was an accident. Really.

Marinette may have drank two shots too many, and she _may_ have accidentally cursed a random stranger to be her familiar. Yet, honestly — she could have done so much worse in her inebriated state.

The only downside is that she was stuck with an arrogant asshole for a familiar.

_“Fix this”,_ he — _Damian, was it? —_ seethed. He glared at her over her work desk stacked with jars of ingredients and countless spell and potion books littering every space and corner, with a bubbling portable cauldron in the very center.

She gave him an unimpressed look as her fingers snapped for another potion to float and pout itself into the glowing changing mixture.

“What do you think I’m doing”, the witch huffed. It wasn’t like she actually wanted to spend more time with this unbearable being.

“You”, he narrowed his eyes, practically spitting in her direction, “are wasting my time with your incompetence and _magic_ that I wanted nothing to do with.”

Marinette had to roll her eyes once more, especially when he sneered at the word “magic”. Clearly, he was not very knowledgeable of supernatural forces.

“For the last time, I apologize, but you _really_ should not have snuck up on a drunk girl, especially one that is exiting from a portal — which by the way, is a telltale sign that she may have this ‘magical’ power you’re so afraid of.”

_“I am not afraid of anything”,_ Damian growled, looking offended and furious all at once. Not that Marinette cared. She doubt that the little blades hidden under his sleeves and cape will breakthrough her protective charm.

“And second of all, you should have ensured that whatever spell you conjured would have lead you to your destination instead of _my_ city, of all places.”

“Your city?” Marinette raised a brow at that, as she worriedly eyed the concoction in the cauldron.

_It’s not supposed to be green, is it?_ , she thought, before shrugging it off.

“Yes, my city that I watch over and protect from criminals and suspicious beings — human or _meta_ ”, he said, emphasizing the last word.

“It was an honest mistake.” The witch ignored the irritated huff as she added more sage and ginger.

“Besides”, Marinette began, pouring in another bottle filled with purple liquid. “You talk down on me as if there isn’t magic in your blood.”

“There isn’t—“ Damian denied before getting cutoff by the witch.

“Yes, there is”, Marinette sighed in frustration at how ignorant this man can be.

“It’s the whole reason we’re spiritually and mentally bonded together, and why we can’t be no more than five meters apart without physically dying.” The blend turned a light pink, before retreating back into the green it was once before. Marinette pouted, waving at the pages to turn in another floating potion book.

There was a loud slap at the table, rattling the cauldron and knocking some of the corked bottles over. Marinette snapped her head to glare at him, only to be met with a hard stare of his own.

“Explain.” The witch squinted at him as her mouth gaped in shock. She shook her head, before snapping her book shut, and levitating off the ground. She was a head shorter than him, but she felt the air raise her off the ground until she was looking down at him.

He didn’t lessen his glower, but Marinette did take the smallest pleasure in seeing his head tilt up at her.

_“Do not fucking talk to me like that_ ”, she said as if she was speaking to a large child, which she probably was.

He squinted at her as his nose flared, before nodding and directing his glare at the floor.

Marinette was right to assume that he was a large man child.

His fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose, as he turned away to mutter a mantra.

“Explain”, the man muttered softer, _“please.”_

Marinette huffed, as she rolled her eyes for the nth time. She lowered herself back to the ground and flipped open her instructions once more.

“Your body holds a sort of...” she trailed off, looking for the right word, as she added more cloves to the pot. “...ancient property.”

“You mean magic?” Damian suggested, and for once, Marinette was surprised that his tone lacked the arrogance and superiority.

“Something like that”, she answered, truthfully. “I mean, ‘magic’ is not much different from your own science. The humans you identify with, create new elements everyday.”

She glanced at her familiar as he listened and hung onto her every word and explanation. Marinette hated to admit it, but the serious expression he had on his face was kind of... endearing.

“Beings like us, are just more in tune with certain...properties that allow us better control of not only tangible matter, but intangible energies and elements.” Marinette furthered.

“And what makes us — _me_ different?” he wondered, and Marinette pursed her lips, trying to find some explanation.

“I sense that you were kind of born with that ancient property?” Marinette shrugged. “But I’ve encountered this before on people who’ve miraculously healed and stayed alive for millenniums.”

“The Lazarus Pits...” Damian muttered to himself as his eyes widened in realization.

“Is that what you call them, now?” She tilted her head in curiosity, nodding towards another bottle to pour red wine in the blend. “I’ve heard ‘fountain of youth’ and ‘water of life’ before.”

Damian nodded, saying nothing as he waited for her expectantly. Her attention returned back to her book, snapping her fingers to have the mortar spin counterclockwise.

“Anyways”, she continued. “My energies have never came into contact with your suppressed power before, and thus it overreacted in a way.”

“You’re saying that my life being tied to yours is an overreaction?” he questioned appalled, and Marinette shot him another glare, her eyes threatening to stop her explanation if he goes on another aggressive tantrum again. He huffed, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“Sometimes, these energies have a life of its own, and we’re merely used as their physical vesicles, so, yes.” Marinette stares at him in the eye. “The properties within and around me had an overreaction with yours. Instead of pushing you far away from me like I intended that night, it bonded towards your own subtler properties within you.”

“Now”, she grinned sarcastically at him. The potion remained a nice shade of pink, and she nodded triumphantly. “Did any of this make sense?”

“No”, he deadpanned. Marinette couldn’t blame him, none of it really made sense to her either. But she could push it away as she forced a ladle to pour the mix into two floating porcelain teacups

“I don’t get it either”, she admitted, pushing a cup into his hand. “Now, drink.”

The sooner they could break this bond, the sooner she could be rid of him. Yet, it was not all bad. It was nice to have another person to banter with no matter how stubborn their personalities were.

Damian eyed the drink wearily, before glancing up at her with the slightest frown.

“Cheers”, he nodded, and Marinette chuckled lightly tilting her cup up.

“Cheers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Jorja Smith's "Blue Lights".
> 
>   
> I don't really know how to do a hogwarts au, so I just made witch!marinette.


	17. dix-sept. sweet life, sweetie pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, baking.

dix-sept. sweet life, sweetie pie // baking

* * *

Marinette felt her eye twitch as she continued to watch the four brothers arguing over who had better taste, lacked taste, and who was the biggest asshole of the siblings there.

She found it amusing the first five minutes of their time there, but it got pretty old, real fast as the four customers have, yet, to make a decision on what flavored cake and filling to purchase.

“Red velvet is such a cliche cake, Dick”, the one withwhite streaked hair complained through a mouthful of the Black Forest Gateau. “Seriously, are you a teenage girl that orders that pumpkin latte every fall, too?”

“Shut up, Jason”, Dick, from what she can assume, rolled his eyes good naturedly. “You know damn well B would kick your ass for that chocolate monstrosity.”

For good measure, he flicked a few crumbs of the lemon meringue at him until the leanest brother leaned forward, gazing at them in all seriousness.

“I still vote that we get the coffee cake with mocha frosting”, he voted, earning groans from all three brothers.

“I’m surprised you still have taste buds after all those shots of espresso you consume”, Jason mentioned, dipping his fork into the sweet cream cake.

“We’ll get that for your birthday, Tim”, Dick reassured, taking another bite of the tres leches.

“The Arabic date and honey cake seems adequate to celebrate for Father’s anniversary”, the tanner brother, Damian, she remembered, who looked to be around her age mentioned, eyeing the piece on his fork apprehensively before taking another bite. Marinette took the chance to cut in, reminding the four of her presence and how their cake testing is on a time limit.

“Thank you!” she said, summoning her customer service persona. “It was my first time using rose water as one of the bases, so I was a bit skeptical if I made it as closely to the traditional cake as possible.”

They all simultaneously turned to her, and Marinette stepped back at how _intimidating_ they all were.

Although they all looked adopted or at least, have a single, mutual parent, the four still carried this intense atmosphere around them as if they were prepared to fight off any attack or disaster and _win_.

Marinette felt her posture slouch a little, but mentally shook off the nerves to give her best smile.

“If any of you have any questions , I would love to answer them”, Marinette said, watching as how a smirk grown on the two-toned hair man.

“Tell me, Miss”, he smiled leaning forward on a palm. “What cake would you get for the world’s greatest stick-up-his-ass, who only indulges in women and work rather than his adopted wards?”

Marinette blinked twice as the man, Jason?, earned glares and scowls from his brothers.

“Jason!” Dick warned, as Tim slapped the older brother on his shoulder.

Damian threw the fork at him to which Jason caught easily with his thumb and forefinger. Marinette wondered if the fork would have impaled itself on the wall, if the man had not snatched it in time.

“What”, he laughed, waving away his brothers’ glowers. “I was just asking the Miss—“

“Tiramisu”, Marinette answered absentmindedly as she was reminded of a certain regular who frequented her patisserie every week.

The men looked at her weirdly, causing her to flush.

“And why tiramisu?” Damian asked, looking at her skeptically.

“Well”, Marinette trailed off. “You sort of gave a description of Bruce Wayne. He comes here every week for the tiramisu.”

The room remains silent as they all gaped at her as if she had grown wings.

“Did you say Bruce Wayne?” Tim blinked at her, while he forced his smile.

“Yes?” she answered, before musing. “He actually preordered a cake for his birthday two weeks ago.”

They all fall silent again, and Marinette wondered if she had said something wrong to cause their speechlessness.

But then, Damian spoke up, seeming to voice the reason for all their distress.

“Damn it, what do we get father, now?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Frank Ocean's "Sweet Life".


	18. dix-huit. leche for my damn self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, hot chocolate.

dix-huit.leche for my damn self // hot chocolate

* * *

Marinette awoke to the sound of someone fumbling in her kitchen at nearly seven in the morning. Much to her chagrin, she sighed helplessly, knowing that she has no right to complain. It was ultimately his apartment anyways.

So with every will power she could muster, the girl sat up, quickly grabbing a sweater to cover her slip dress, and made her way to the source of noise in the apartment. Already overwhelmed with the smells of blueberries, fresh bread, and chocolate.

Damian stood before the waffle iron and stovetop, carefully poaching the eggs.

“The bread is ready”, he said, without turning around. “And I already warmed the hot chocolate in your kettle.”

“Any reason for the surprise visit?” Marinette asked moving towards the counter adjacent to him. Her hands reached for one of the mismatched mugs, as Damian carefully passed the warm electric kettle to her.

“Just wanted some food”, he muttered, carefully removing a poached egg onto a plate with toasted french bread.

“And your butler couldn’t do that for you, today?”

He said nothing, passing her a plate of blueberry waffles. She accepted it, not expecting him to answer. Their odd friendship only consisted of silence, his snarky comments and her inquisitive questions. So, Marinette was used to him ignoring the questions he didn’t want to answer. She respected his boundaries, after deeming him safe enough to live with.

Besides, she knew when to not get involved and mind her business. Like the rare times, he would come back all bruised and cut up.

She almost shrieked when she saw his downtrodden form in her doorframe but stopped as she recognized him, despite the cut lip and bruised cheek.

_“You know how to sew, right?”_

_“Yes, but are you— What the fuck is this? A medical kit? Shouldn’t you be going to a hospital for stitches!?”_

_“I would prefer not to risk my injuries leaking to the press, and I trust your skills.”_

_“I-I...please don’t make me, Damian.”_

_“Marinette, we can’t waste anymore time. I have moments before the adrenaline wears off, and I bleed out on the carpet.”_

_“Fuck, okay! Just — oh my god.”_

_“Don’t think about it.”_

_“Fuck, alright okay. I can do this, and you’re okay. We’re okay. Just — ew, this is fucking nasty.”_

_“Marinette.”_

_“Yeah, right. Sorry.”_

_“...”_

_“...”_

_“...Is this going to be a thing? That I have to patch you up after you get into some mysterious fight that you will most likely never tell me?”_

_“It’s best not to get involved. And yes, you may have to deal with this again in the future.”_

Marinette suspected that the Wayne heir to be involved in some underground fighting organization, but who truly knows. Either way in her time living in his rarely used apartment, she had learned to never press more on his mysterious injuries, or his family.

She shrugged, taking a sip of her chocolate drink.

“You have the tastebuds of a child.” Marinette glanced over to Damian, who was already cutting into the egg, the yolk soaking in the freshly made slice of bread. He eyed the mug in her hand

“Because I prefer hot chocolate over your brutish coffee?” Marinette chuckled at him, making sure to slurp her next sip. He gave a light scowl, but she saw the corner of his lip twitch up.

“Yes, and that endless sweet tooth of yours. I’m surprised you have not fallen into a coma from sugar shock, yet.”

“Shut up”, Marinette laughed as she poured honey over her meal. “You didn’t have to make breakfast, you know?”

“It was my turn”, Damian answered simply, taking the last bite of his toast. Yet, Marinette remained confused. When he had allowed her to stay, they never established any rules for to cook the other meals. His inconsistent appearances were rare, especially around mealtimes; and when he was there, Marinette only offered some of her foods out of politeness.

“You made pasta for dinner, remember?”

“That was a month ago!” Marinette complained, loudly, wondering how he could remember something so minute.

“Well, I finally had time to return the favor.”

Marinette huffed and muttered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

This boy really was something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Tyler the Creator's "Hot Chocolate".
> 
> idkkkk


	19. dix-neuf. dive deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, mistletoe.

dix-neuf. dive deep // mistletoe

* * *

“A mistletoe, huh? And right above a woman’s _special_ place no less”, came the familiar interested purr. Marinette turned to discover Selina curiously leaning over her shoulder as she held the embroidery hoop and pin.

Marinette only shook her head as she gave the older woman a devilish grin. She was inspired to create holiday themed lingerie and had spent her whole morning making the prototype.

“A cheeky pun for cheeky panties”, Marinette said making the final knot. She carefully held the white seamless underwear up to showcase the embroidered green leaves. Right above the design was a delicate pink ribbon sewn to the hem.

“Very provocative”, Selina praised, flicking at the bow.

“I’m still thinking about how I want the matching bralette to look like.” Marinette said, placing the lingerie on her lap. “But at least I got the mistletoe over the most important part.”

The two women snickered as Sel lightly shoved the other girl. But before Marinette can continue their play fighting, a knock resounded from outside the fire escape. From the dirty window panes, she could see the tell tale colors of Gotham’s caped vigilante, patiently waiting.

Selina glances up to the ceiling, before smirking mischievously to the girl on her couch, yet, the younger woman blushes slightly as she busies herself with reorganizing her sewing and embroidery tools.

There was a tut as the older woman strode to let in their uninvited guest through the escape.

For nearly six months, Marinette had become very close friends with Selina Kyle after the latter had found her down on her luck in the city after learning how her living situation to fell through, and the woman had offered the Parisian to stay on her couch for the time being. Within those months, Selina had taught the naive girl the ins and outs of the city, and she had finally realized why Gotham was much cheaper when the Big Apple was just so close to them.

Yet, she had discovered that not only was her technical landlady the famous, or rather infamous, Cat Woman of Gotham. She, also, received a lot of visitors from both sides of the law. For the first two weeks of sleeping on her couch, she had awoke to see some vigilante or wanted criminal standing in the corner in the dead of night. Poison Ivy and Harley were very sweet to her despite the two always bickering with one another.

Yet, Batman and his bird-themed sidekicks were much more intimidating than the Sirens. She had barely noticed that they were there until she passed by them a second time after getting a glass of water. It lead to her shrieking and launching said glass towards the five masked men, until Selina came out to calm her down, before guiding her to bed and leaving her with the simple explanation that she was Cat Woman.

Nevertheless, Marinette was used to the unannounced visits from all of Selina’s allies, even managing to make small talk with the more open partners of Batman.

However, there was still one that seemed to render her speechless each time he visited the femme fatale.

“Don’t be rude, Marinette. Come say hello to Robin”, Selina teased, pulling the scowling hero over. The young noirette only mustered enough courage to awkwardly wave at him.

It was not that her interactions with the vigilante were unpleasant, but rather embarrassing on the younger woman’s end. Marinette just felt so exposed under his critical gaze, and like his partner, she never could tell what he was thinking behind the mask. All she knew is that her back tends to get straighter and her face seemed to be flushed each time they talked.

_Good things_ , she hope, watching as the vigilante mutter to Sel about who knows what. Yet, the woman disappears back into her room, leaving Marinette to frantically panic as she is left alone with the man.

Her focus returned back onto her new project at hand...which was a pair of underwear...

With a silent shriek, she quickly stuffed the panties behind the couch pillow, ignoring how Robin stared at her curiously. It was not like she was truly ashamed of her new design, but it was weird to bring together lingerie with some of the world’s angstiest heroes.

“Hello again, Marinette”, he said, striding up to her. He sat on the couch arm, far too close to where she hid the lingerie.

“Hi”, she muttered, wondering why her mouth felt too dry. she could see how his mask tilted as he raised his brow.

“You doing okay?” And the girl gave a short nod, staring straight down.

“You’re not getting into trouble with Selina, are you?” he asked with a slight lilt in his tone. Marinette glanced up to see a look of mischief in his tiny smirk, only to stare back down at her hands, antsy to hold onto something.

“No...” she trailed, uncertainly, thinking of every bad thing she had done that could warrant an arrest.

Robin hummed at her answer, before changing the subject.

“So, what have you been making lately?” His gloved hans gestured to her sewing supplies spread across the coffee table. She flinched as she saw some of the panty-shaped stencil left out on the side.

“Oh you know”, she laughed uncomfortably, rolling her eyes away from him, to hide her grimace.

“Just holiday themed... clothes”, she finished lamely, turning to him to see his lips quirk at something in his hands.

“I see”, he coughed, raising a fist to hide the growing smile on his face. Marinette felt her mouth fall because it was the first time she had ever seen the stoic man look too amused. But then she felt her face flush as his other hand wave her embroidered panty in her face.

“Very tongue in cheek”, he snickered, but a flushed Marinette was already jumping forward to grab her newest design, but he only extended his arm higher and out of her reach.

“Oh my god”, she said to herself, embarrassed at how she was childishly playing _this game_ with the vigilante and shocked that said vigilante is teasing her like this.

“Relax, Marinette”, he laughed as she hid her face into her palms. She felt the cloth placed back onto her lap and slid her hands down across her face. Robin had gotten up from the couch arm, but he still looked far too entertained with her antics.

“It’s cute”, and she nearly guffawed because she never thought that word “cute” would genuinely come out of his mouth.

“Thank you?” she replied unsure of how to react now. God, it was as if her brain was malfunctioning. But Robin leaned forward, with that same amused smile in place, and Marinette blinked at the sudden closeness.

“You know”, he whispered. “I can’t wait to see that on you.”

Something short-circuited in her as she merely stared at the hero. Her mouth was drier, and her cheeks were hotter than before. Because _oh._

_Now, she knows why she got so tongue-tied around him._

“I—yes”, Marinette merely said, forgetting every other word to express on why she would want that, too.

But before they can continue, Selina came back into the room, smirking at the two of them.

“Babybird, you broke her”, the older woman tutted at the hero as she handed him a flash drive.

“It wasn’t my intention”, he chuckled, already walking towards the fire escape. Robin turned to give a salute to Selina, before flashing the still stunned noirette a wink.

“See you later, Marinette”, he said before disappearing. And all the girl could do was plop her face into the couch pillow before giving out a whine of embarrassment? Shock? Joy?

The couch dipped beside her as Selina began to pat her back in comfort.

“Did you know that I—?” Marinette’s voice came out muffled from the cushion.

“You had a crush on him?” Selina finished, unimpressed. _”Everyone knew.”_

Another whine.

“Does he actually—“

“Like you? He’s interested, but everyone’s betting that he’ll truly fall for you within in a month.”

Marinette raised her head to pout at the woman.

“And what are you betting?” Selina only grins, as she proudly tosses the forgotten mistletoe panty to the younger girl’s face.

“I bet after the first date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Pink Sweat$' "Honesty".


	20. vingt. gun play turns into pillow talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, coffee shop.

vingt. gunplay turns into pillow talk // coffee shop

* * *

Out of all the cafes she could have gone, she had go to the one that _he_ would go to.

That very morning, Marinette woke up in an empty hotel room with her clothes scattered across the floor and a pounding headache that called for coffee.

She could hardly recall the night before, only remembering bits and pieces from her time in the gala and failed attempts at networking to expand her small online business. But she immediately recognized the man that had taken her to a hotel after her awkwardly flirting with him at the open bar.

His face was definitely not forgetful, seeing as how really pretty he was with his strong jawline and sharp, green eyes. Yet, his name escaped her, as she racked her already pounding head in what she called him last night.

Either way, she tried to make herself smaller, knowing damn well that she looked like she had just stumbled away from a drunken one night stand. She had purchased an oversized black souvenir hoodie that horribly clashed with the silky baby blue dress and strapped heels she had on. Noticing how her one night stand dressed casually in designer brands as he waited for his order, shot another pang to her already bruised pride.

Marinette tried to keep calm, planning an escape plan. She had already paid for her drink, so all she had to do was just grab it when they called her name and leave the premises immediately. Avoid eye contact and feign ignorance. Easy.

But from her hiding spot, Marinette snuck glances to him every once in a while, noticing how truly handsome he was in this lighting. His shoulders were broad and his muscles were well defined under his long sleeved shirt. His skin was a nice copper color with olive undertones. Despite his glare aimed at his phone, his eyes were very pretty, taking on a dark green, almost black color. The man seemed to embody mystery around him, and she wondered how in the world she even achieved to sleep with him last night.

She blushed when he rubbed at his neck, revealing hints of the love bruises she left on his collarbone.

_Oh god_ , Marinette thought, as she had flashbacks of the night before. She remembered his gentle touches and the way his brows furrowed together. She remembered how pleasantly exhausted she was even when his phone alerted, and he left the bed. He even made sure to cover the blankets around her before leaving.

_I really did that._

Her thoughts are interrupted by a call of her name, and she quickly walked up to the counter with her head down, pretending that no one is paying attention to her.

Just as she got there to grab the warm mocha, the barista placed another cup near hers and called out another name, that sounded too familiar.

“Order for Damian!”

Marinette flinched at his loud tone, but froze when she saw another arm reach around her to grab the drink besides hers.

“Excuse me”, that familiar voice muttered, and despite every nerve telling her not to, the noirette turned around to see the very face of her one night stand.

Looking at him closely, she could see the bags under his eyes and the love bites through his shirt, but her eyes zeroed in on the healing bruise on his jaw. It looked fresh and slightly swollen.

The man — _Damian —_ raised a brow at her, and it took Marinette a moment to realize that she was staring at him.

“Hi”, she stuttered out, stepping away from the counter.

“Hi”, he returned flatly, and again — she wondered how she managed to sleep with him.

Words seemed to have fail the noirette, but her thoughts drifted to the bruise on his cheek.

“Are you okay?” she asked, gesturing to his cheek.

He only nodded, not bothering for an explanation, yet, Marinette awkwardly persisted.

“Thanks again for last night.” She flinched ass soon as the words were out, but Damian had surprised her.

“No problem”, he shrugged off, keeping his face indifferent. “I’d like to do it again, sometime.”

Marinette blinked, once again at a loss for words.

“I— you do?”

“Yes, I do.” Damian’s hands reached into his pocket, pulling out and handing her a card with his name and number.

“Give me a call, and we can discuss when to meet again”, he said, moving towards the door without so much as another word.

Marinette was left speechless in the cafe with his number and cold coffee in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Miguel's "Coffee".


	21. vingt et un. fuck it up in the worst way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, birthday.

vingt et un. fuck it up in the worst way // birthday

* * *

“Get the fuck down”, Damian hissed, pulling the inebriated girl off the bar table, much to the crowd’s disappointment and boo’s.

He wanted to kill Jason for even suggesting they go to the club for his twenty-second birthday. His brothers were well aware of his girlfriend’s habit to go overboard when partying.

“Happy birthday, Damian!” she slurred with a hiccuped giggle over the club’s bass. Marinette hung onto his shoulder as she stumbled a bit back to their booth. His adopted brothers watched on in amusement, snickering at his expense.

Marinette could handle her alcohol well (she grew up in Paris, for fuck’s sake), but she had a bad habit of mixing darks and lights together, which usually caused her to black out and sleep until the afternoon.

“Baby”, Damian breathed though his nose, summoning all his patience. “Please drink the water I got you.”

Yet, the girl slipped out of his grip, wrinkling her nose at the word _water_.

“No, fuck you. I want another shot”, she pouted, already pulling back to the bar, but Damian practically yanked her back to his side.

“No”, he said flatly. “No more shots.”

Instead of receiving another pout, Marinette looked up at him mischievously through blurred eyes.

“Ooh”, she cooed, wrapping her hands around his neck, as she tilted up on the tips of her heels. “Keep talking to me like that, and you’ll get your second present.”

Despite the devilish curl in her lips, Damian could only laugh at the irony. No matter how big she talked about her promises for a wonderful night with him, she almost usually ended up whining the whole night about how much her head hurts or how she will promptly pass out as soon as she hit their bed.

“Sure”, Damian smiled with a shake of his head, deciding to entertain her. “I can’t wait, baby.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but paused as she heard the transition to one of her favorite party songs.

Marinette let go and ran to the dance floor before Damian could even blink.

_“I can’t be fucked with, no!”_ the girl sang as she began to bend down, while moving her hips in time with the bass. He noticed how some of the single club-goers began to sidle their way behind her, readying to grab at her rear.

But before they can, his fist immediately grabbed at their forearm. They looked ready to fight, but immediately backed away with their hands raised when they saw the deadly look in his eye.

Damian sighed, keeping an eye out for other people, daring to grab at his drunk girlfriend and on Marinette, ready to help cover her just in case she flashes anyone due to how much she was shaking and bouncing with the music.

He stood stiffly as the other patrons danced and bumped against each other wildly. It was honestly disgusting with how much sweat filtered through his nose and how humid it was within the crowd, but Marinette, in her drunken state, loved it.

“Dami”, she smiled up at him lazily, moving to bring him closer towards the center of the crowd; but he stayed out on where he was, because he lived her, but not that much to go where the stench and heat was unbearable.

Nevertheless, Marinette shrugged off his resistance in favor of jumping on him, wrapping her legs around his waistand her arms around his neck. He immediately held her steady, making sure to pull her dress down a bit.

“Can we go home, now”, she muttered into his neck. “I’m tired.”

“Of course, Baby”, Damian sighed already, walking towards the booth where his brothers smiled at them, entertained by her endearing antics and his suffering. Marinette began to feel like deadweight, as she started to drift off into sleep, and he readjusted his hold on her.

Tim smugly handed his phone, while giving Marinette a loving pat on her back. Jason threw his jacket over her while ruffling her hair. Dick gave her a quick peck to her head as he handed Damian his keys.

“See you tomorrow, birthday boy”, Jason hooted as he walked to the doors. Damian merely raised the finger to him, as the amused bouncer held the door open for them.

The car ride was relatively silent, despite Marinette’s constant slurs, as she drifted in and out of sleep from the passenger side.

“Happy birthday, Dami”, she whispered leaning against the door.

He could only sigh in exasperation, nonetheless, he smiled at his pain in the ass.

“Thank you, beloved.”

“I love you, so much.”

“Love you, too”, Damian felt his smile widen as she awkwardly leaned over the middle console to rest her head against his arm.

“Even if you are old.” And Damian huffed a laugh,rolling his eyes, because, of course, she would ruin the moment with her drunken snarkiness.

“Fuck you”, he said lovingly.

“Fuck you, too”, Marinette said, before finally sleeping against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Trap Beckham's "Birthday Bitch".
> 
> don't mix dark and light liquor unless you want to get super messed up and have trusted friends to take care of you


	22. vingt-deux. love me, won't you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, wedding.

vingt-deux. love me, won’t you? // wedding

* * *

Damian knew why his father had isolated himself from everyone. No matter how many people were on his side, including him, his father still held them at a distance because if the man allows himself to love, then he could heal, and if he heals, would he still have the will to go on as the Dark Knight? The answer was made clear when the only woman he deemed worthy had left his father, making that ultimate sacrifice for their love and happiness to keep the man in the cowl all so their damn, rotten city could have a protector.

But when the woman left, it only proved further that the Bat can _never_ allow himself to be happy. Even when the man was given multiple chances to reconnect with those he loved through apologies and resurrections, he could never accept them and all they wanted to give.

And as much as Damian _hated_ it, he understood it. Because, sometimes, it really was not enough for love to drive their need to protect everyone. Sometimes, it was that pain and fear of losing everyone that forces them to put the mask on again and again.

Love and fear coincide with one another so very well, and Damian hated how much he confused the two together because he saw that it was sign that he was growing to be his father. But Damian promised to be better than him, to set the standard so impossibly high and prove that the Bat can have happiness. To prove to his father that he can have everything because he had been so destructively selfless with making countless sacrifices to his life and all those in it.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Because the more he wore the cowl and took on the namesake his father had left him, Damian began to understand that he cannot have it all. He cannot have an _and_. He is given _or, either, neither,_ but never all.

And Damian fucking hated it. He despised the city, his father, and himself because it was all about the sacrifices he made for the greater good.

He remembered his father telling him that he had a choice to become whoever the hell he wanted, whether it was taking up his mask or not. But did he ever really have a choice.

Damian wants to say yes, that he was in control of every decision he made. In hindsight, he truly never did stand a chance against the inevitable. To be blessed with his father’s most prized accomplishment and cursed by it all the same.

Now, Damian surveyed the skylines, wearing his father’s old suit. There was a celebration going on beneath him, and he half pays attention to their drunken laughs and conversations.

Apparently, it was the reception for two well-known people in Paris, and Damian somewhat recognized the bride when she stepped out in her silky white dress, laughing and blushing as everyone congratulated her.

He remembered her from his time spent abroad in Europe during his teen years. She was pretty, back then too, with her light eyes and shy smile, always framed by her dark raven hair. Very kind, as well, considering how she had shared her notes (not that it was needed) for him to catch up when he was summoned back to his father.

Damian was never infatuated with the girl (he would never allow himself to be), but he did tolerate her above the rest of their peers.

He always wondered what would happen if he allowed himself to get closer to anyone — if he actually talked to this girl more, would it lead to this special wedding? Would he finally disprove his father that they can be happy?

But then, all those thoughts lead to what he can lose, and that pain frightened him more.

So, he disappeared into the night, leaving the bride and her guests and pushing away that yearning and envy to be happy like her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Daniel Caesar and H.E.R.'s "Best Part".


	23. vingt-troix. what can we do in here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, roommates.

vingt-troix. what can we do in here? // roommates

* * *

Damian had picked up his bad habit from Jason, when he first caught his older brother with a lit cigarette in his mouth. As a child, he had stumbled upon Jason smoking in his room, watching the rain hit the windowpane and slide down into puddles on his window sill.

He had always known this his brother was a bit of an angsty drama queen, but it seemed that the moment had much of a greater impact on him, as he found himself smoking outside his apartment complex, shielded by the heavy downpour of the small awning over the side entrance.

It was a much needed break, after the day and people he had deal with, and he relished the cool burn of his lungs as the heavy smoke flowed from his mouth. He felt the ache in his shoulder relax a bit before tending as his ears perked at the sound of rushing footsteps slosh through puddles.

Through his peripherals, he noticed his neighbor running through the rain, with her trench coat offand raised above her head as a makeshift umbrella. He raised a brow, eyeing how her slip dress was already drenched by the rain.

With another inhale of his cigarette, he blew the smoke away from her as she trudged up the few steps, before hearing her slip. Out of instinct, Damian’s reflexes had caught her in time, careful to not burn her with the lit cigarette, before letting go.

Seeing her closer, he couldn’t help but notice her long lashes, framing her light eyes, looking at him gratefully. Her full lips curved into that shy, saccharine smile, as her cheeks flushed under the fluorescent lamp. She was much smaller than him, but she still moved close as she sided pass him the get to the entrance.

Yet, Damian could not help but watch her walk away. Her quiet allure drawing him to her.

Snubbing our his cigarette against the wall and tossing it into the small trash can provided, he followed her back inside and away from the rain.

She shivered a bit, as her hands fumbled with her keys to enter the lock of her apartment door. His apartment door was right beside hers, and his shoulder had brushed against her back, catching her attention.

“Hey, you alright?” Damian asked, pulling out his keys to shove into the door lock.

“I’m fine”, she smiled, her eyes twinkling with something he could not make out. “Thanks for your help... Damian, right?”

He nodded, offering a small smile of his own.

“I’m Marinette”, she introduced, as she opened her door with a click.

“Anytime, Marinette.” He couldn’t help, but notice how he liked the taste of her name on his tongue. “If you need me, you know where I live.”

She only hummed, before disappearing into her apartment, and he followed suit in his own.

With a toss of his keys to the coffee table, Damian fell onto the sofa resting his head against the wall.

Through the thin walls, he could hear Marinette enter her bathroom, fumbling through her drawers to change out of her wet clothes.

Damian had always noticed her before, when he first decided to take up permanent residence at one of the apartments he barely used. She was truly pretty from what he had seen when they managed to catch each other leaving or entering their respective homes.

Of course, due to his training to perform background checks on anyone residing in the same building as him, he knew exactly who Marinette was and what she did. Yet, hertempting demeanor and the way she confidently and secretive smiles had caught his interest.

Yet, that was the first time he had taken initiative to talk to her after playing this incessant game of eyeing each other and pretending neither noticed. He wasn’t in love with her, but he most definitely was attracted to her. And judging from her, he could tell that she was just infatuated with him, as well.

With a sigh, Damian stood up from the couch, wondering the absolute worse that can happen if invites her out.

Leaving his apartment, he raised a fist to knock, her door opened to reveal her smiling so prettily up at him.

“Hi”, Marinette greeted as his hand lowered, but she reached for his hand, slightly tugging on him to come inside her home. Damian grinned at her, following her.

“Hi.” The door shutting with a click behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Anderson .Paak"s "Room in Here".
> 
>   
> Story inspired by the music video for Mac Miller's "My Favorite Part (feat. Ariana Grande)". 💛


	24. vingt-quatre. did I ever ask you to take me to go shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, presents.

vingt-quatre. did I ever ask you to take me to go shopping // presents

* * *

Marinette collapsed onto her bed, her back and feet aching from another late shift.

The bar was busier than usual as she and her other coworker personally tended to some of their “special patrons” in the private room. It was an open secret that the bar owner had some deal with a few of the city’s organized crime families.

She was just thankful that they finally left, leaving a hefty amount of hush money for her and her coworker.

Her among many of the other waitresses knew of the silent “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule as they continued to bring out their food and beers, ignoring their smug leers and dirty calls. But Marinette was never really one for rules.

There was a knock at her fire escape, and she immediately groaned not mentally prepared to deal with her late night visitor. Marinette made no moves to get out of bed already knowing that he had picked the lock already and was well on his way in.

“So what were the family talking about this time.” She heard from her bed, and she rolled over to find the masked vigilante already glaring at her. The _R_ insignia on his chest flashing in the dim lit apartment.

Marinette wanted to roll her eyes far too used Robin practically interrogating her ever since he decided that she would be his mole.

“Illegal weapons”, she answered sitting up. “They’re being transported to the port under the Wayne shipment, I think. Apparently, they’re paying someone off to not fully inspect the cargo or something. Should be arriving this weekend.”

“That’s all I got before they started getting too drunk.” Marinette shrugged, watching as his frown deepened. The whites of his mask narrowed as he got lost in thought, and she took the chance to reach for the wad of bills in her skirt. Pulling a few large bills, she offered the rest to the vigilante.

“Here you go, I just need enough for this rent.”

Robin raised a brow at her, taking the bills before resting it on the nearby drawers.

“We _really_ don’t take money”, he said. But Marinette was adamant for him to take it, grabbing the money and placing it back into his gloved hands.

“It’s fine.” She closed his fingers around it, patting him gently. “Donate it to somewhere or something. You’re like Robin Hood, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, scowling.

“You’re kidding, right?” Yet, Marinette merely smiled at him in amusement, plopping onto her bed. Robin took it as his cue to leave, already making his way to her fire escape.

“Goodnight, Robin”, she waved her fingers. “Hopefully, we won’t see each other again soon.”

“Hopefully”, he agreed, and Marinette could hear the smirk in his voice.

When she awoke the next morning, a note was placed on her nightstand. Marinette smirked, opening the note with a cursive _Thanks._ scrawled in, along with a copy of her landlord’s invoice.

Her eyes widened and she flopped back down exasperated with the hero’s random gift.

_That bastard paid for six month’s worth of rent._

She felt her cheeks hurt from smiling as she shook her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Summer Walker's "Playing Games".
> 
> it feels unfinished because it is. I didn't know how to end it lol


	25. vingt-cinq. just like you should

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — or, christmas.

vingt-cinq. just like you should // christmas

* * *

Damian felt a sigh building up as eyed the citrus concoction in his girlfriend’s hand, already noticing how her neck and chest started to redden. A few drops splattered against the kitchen floor and island, however, she didn’t notice as she danced to some very popular Christmas songs played over the speaker.

Marinette’s eyes lit up when she noticed him in the room, yet, it didn’t stop her from singing and moving along, aggressively sloshing her drink in hand.

_“— is youuuuuu_ ”, she harmonized with the singer, before shifting her hips in time with the bells. He rolled his eyes, as he carefully grabbed the sticky champagne glass out of her hand, setting it back on to the island counter.

“Mimosas? At ten in the morning?” he asked, but despite the exasperation in his tone, Damian still allowed the drunk Marinette to wrap her arms around him in greeting.

“When else are you supposed to drink mimosas?” she pouted at him.

“Preferably not now when we have to meet with my family soon.”. At the mention of this, Marinette’s mouth formed into a perfect _o_ until she shrugged _in a what can you do_ kind of way.

“We’ll just be late, then”, the drunk girl said flippantly as she moved away, ignoring how a look of irritation flashed across his face.

“We can’t be late” Damian breathed through his nose. “My father wants to have a personal family christmas card.”

“Oh, then, you can go on without me”, she suggested, pulling out the champagne bottle. “I’ll just arrive a bit late after I sober up more

“But you won’t be in the picture”, Damian sighed.

“I’m not family”, she grimaced. “And what happens if we break up — knock on wood. Then, you’ll have to be reminded of our relationship from this time, and I ruined your holiday photos.”

_“I”,_ he cut in, before she could ramble more, _“_ want you there. Regardless, of the unlikely chances that we may break up.”

Marinette pursed her lips, watching him in thought.

“Are you sure?” Damian took her hands, and brought them to his lips, earning a small smile from her.

“Yes. Now, please take a warm shower to sober up faster”, he confirmed, making no room to argue.

But then a parody Christmas song started to play over the speaker, and he watched as Marinette brightened up even more, before beginning to sing and dance to the words.

“After this”, she said quickly, before she continued to sing.

Damian groaned, rubbing his face, but an amused smile began to form as watched her sing along to the ironically, raunchy Christmas remix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from the T. Kyle's "Khia Tell Me" - Khia's "My Neck, My Back" x Ariana Grande's "Santa Tell Me".
> 
> Song mentioned is the Queen of Christmas' "All I want for Christmas is You."


	26. vingt-six. never gets old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, domestic.

vingt-six. never gets old // domestic

* * *

Marinette waved encouragingly as he sped away on his motorcycle, his hood rippling behind him.

She felt the bright smile she plastered on thin just the slightest, as she shut the side entrance with a resounding click, followed by a few whirring buzzes, alerting her of the security system in place.

Damian was always overly cautious, but within reason, considering the double lives of him and his family. So, when she made the decision to stay with him until their inevitable deaths do them part, he had her memorize protocol after protocol, teaching her other ways to efficiently improvise and think of escape plans for any occasion until he was satisfied.

Her time with him had consisted of patting in foundation to cover the endless bruises from her self-defense classes, and rubbing in antibiotics to her cuts she had received from accidentally poking herself with the hidden knife that was always strapped against her thigh.

When it came to Damian, catastrophes and bad luck was never a matter of _if_ , but _when_.

When she gets abducted and held for ransom or blackmail. When she gets caught in the crossfire between criminals and the vigilantes. When he comes home beaten and bruised and scarred. When he doesn’t come home at all.

This is how she must fight them off. This is how she escapes. This is how she sanitizes his cut, before stitching into him. This is how she contacts his partners to notify his disappearance. This is what he had her prepare for.

Of course, there were instances when she felt like they were a “normal” couple. He would come home, and she would ask about his day, ignoring how they were both shaking as she poked at his open wound with a needle and thread. Sometimes, she would simply lay with him on the couch, as an old movie drones on in the background while the smell of blood and dirt from his uniform fills her sense. And just the other night, they ate out for dinner, before another robbery occurred nearby. She patiently waited by the police lines, their leftovers in hand, as she watched Damian in his maroon and green glory fight off the tacky costumed men.

That was their life — a life she had agreed to. Yet, she was always prepared to escape it.

Marinette trudged towards their room and to their shared closet. Flipping on the lights, she made way to the chest opening it where two backpacks remained.

_“Just in case”,_ Damian had said, showing her the countless large bills and passports for differing countries. A few medical supplies and a set of plain clothes were there, as well, along with a non-traceable phone.

Marinette looked through it, checking and double checking that everything was there, that they _she_ was ready to leave at a moment’s notice to build a new life for herself with or without him.

_“Just in case what?” she remembered asking, but she already knew the most of his reasons._

_“Anything”, he shrugged. “My identity has been compromised, my enemies come for you, or...when this life just gets too much for you.”_

_Marinette blinked, not at all expecting the last part, because back then she was new and wide-eyed to his life. She had just said_ I do _, and fully believed in keeping her promise to him._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Exactly that. You are always free to leave when you realize that you don’t want this anymore — no questions asked.”_

Marinette laughed humorlessly as she remembered promising him how that would never happen. Yet, he was always right to expect it.

The anxious and lonesome days when he couldn’t come home due to both roles of his life, demanding him. The inevitable fear and need to look behind her shoulder when she was out. The ebbing fear when she watches the news to see Damian get hit, Damian winning, Damian saving the day with his family.

It killed her that out of all the possible plans he had prepared for, he was right to assume that what they have was not enough for her to stay by his side.

It took her a moment to realize that instead of feeling guilt for giving him that hope that he was enough, Marinette only felt relief that it would all end.

But then, she caught sight of her finger where a ring should have been placed. (They had forgone not to wear rings to keep their relationship a secret.) Instead, hidden on the very inside was Damian’s name tattooed in Arabic, one that she had gotten done by some young artist early on in her relationship.

They had never spoken aloud about her decision to get it done. The acknowledgement she had ever gotten from him was a short pause as he noticed it the first time, before gripping her fingers so hard. Marinette was not sure if he was upset that she had practically branded herself with death or if he was overwhelmed that she had made a permanent promise to stay by him.

She recalled how naive she was to further prove her determination to stay.

_“You don’t have to worry about that.” She smiled reassuringly, clinging onto him. The passports fell to the floor as he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll only use those when absolutely necessary, not to run off on you.”_

_He hummed, smiling sadly at her. She wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips against her forehead and held her tighter to his chest._

Marinette wondered why she did not reconfirm her love to him right then and there, but it just felt wrong at the time. There was a nagging voice within her calling out that it was because she didn’t want to lie to him, like she was lying to him, now, about how she was happy to be there.

And it hurt too much to the point that looking at what she was about to do made her sick.

She shoved everything back haphazardly into the bag, before throwing it inside the chest and slamming it shut.

“Not now”, she said to herself, as her head pounded, and her resolve shattered.

_Not yet_ , she thought, leaving the closet to their bed. Marinette practically collapsed onto it, flipping to her side to see the lone polaroid residing on her nightstand. It was of the two of them together, lying on the couch within his father’s manor.

They were hardly paying attention to his pseudo-grandfather as Damian furrowed his brows at her tattooed finger, while she smiled up at him, patiently awaiting for him to say something. But he never did.

The door to the bedroom clicked open, yet, Marinette did not bother to look, already knowing that it was Damian.

Wordlessly, he fell to the empty space beside her, and Marinette took the chance to twist around and take in the exhaustion in his face. Damian was already in his civilian attire, and she wrinkled her nose at how he smelled of smoke.

He softly smiled up at her, reaching with his hand to smooth out the crinkle in her face, until her eye caught onto the inside of his ring finger.

Marinette grabbed his palm as she gazed at the little _M_ inscribed into his skin. Her eyes, watering a bit, turned back to meet Damian’s impassive gaze.

A sob was caught in her throat, but she refused to let it out because _damn him for loving her, too._

Marinette moved closer to him, feeling safer — _more reassured_ — in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from H.E.R.'s "As I Am".
> 
> here are twelve short stories that I am not too fond of, since it is really noticeable of how much I gave up a quarter way in each chapter. but my time to write has really been limited due to work and partying almost everyday because it's the last few days of the decade lol. I promise to finish the last few prompts before the year ends, or at least on new year's haha


	27. vingt-sept. because my world will be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, sleep.

vingt-sept. because my world will be // sleep

* * *

A lazy finger dragged his lips down until her arm flopped back down to the side of the bed.

“Shut the fuck up”, Marinette gently shushed him despite her biting words. She did not bother to open her eyes as she laid sprawled against the mattress.

Damian narrowed her eyes at her, preparing a slew of profanities Jason had taught him until he thought better of it. Breathing deeply through his nose, he took the chance to jostle the girl in his bed for a bit to try to wake her.

“Get out of my bed, _please_ ”, he tried in the politest way he could, because count on his nuisance of a classmate to be a bigger pain than normal.

“No”, she murmured into the pillow, her cheek smushed against it.

Damian was ready to launch her out of the bed and his room.

“Marinette”, he said firmly, but he was met with mumbled words and soft snores.

As gentle as he could, he tugged on the sheets, forcing her to fall to the floor, effectively waking her up with a start.

Damian glared at her irritably as she frantically looked around, before her gaze landed on him.

“Damian?” she asked, sleep still lacing her voice.

“Get out.” The teen moved to take his spot on his bed, grimacing at how one of the pillows had a drool spot. He tossed it to the side and lied down, turning away from his classmate and ignoring how she stuttered, searching for an explanation.

“I’m sorry”, he heard her panicky apologized, before going into her full on ramble. “I think we accidentally switched key cards when I bumped into you, and the Professor was already asleep. And you know how my roommate threw a fit about having her own room, so she won’t let me in. So, I tried waiting up for you here, but you were gone, and— wait, how did you get in if you have my key card?”

“I had an extra”, he lied smoothly. After all, he could not have her find out that he left through his balcony to patrol Jump City as Robin with some old acquaintances of his. His mind wandered to his backpack which safely held his vigilante attire.

He was lucky to switch out before jumping onto the balcony of his hotel room.

“Oh”, she said trailing off. “That was smart.”

Damian hummed.

“Yes, now, good night, Marinette”, he waved passive aggressively.

“I need my key card to get back to my hotel room, Damian”, she said, poking at his shoulder, and he refrained from groaning aloud as he sat up and dug into the pocket of his sweats.

“Here.” He flicked into her direction, surprising her. Damian flopped down again and closed his eyes, awaiting for her to leave.

“Thanks”, she murmured, but he still didn’t hear her disappearing footsteps. Feeling his patience thin, he sat up as his eyes snapped to her frightened look.

“What.” She stepped back wary of the venom in his tone, but that was what she gets when he was still jetlagged from the plane and running on little sleep after helping his former teammates.

A look of determination crossed on her face, before she stuttered out.

“I want to stay here, tonight.” Damian’s glare only hardened.

“Why.”

“I don’t like my roommate.”

“No one does.”

“So, can I sleep here, tonight?”

“No.”

“Only until five, and I’ll leave before anyone notices.” Damian contemplated throwing a tranquilizer at her or physically throwing her out, yet, thought better of it.

From his interactions with her, he was well aware of her subtle stubbornness.

“Okay”, he relented, watching how a look of surprise flashed across her face, before throwing him a grateful smile.

“On the bed? Or the floor?” she asked, picking up her drooled pillow that he tossed.

“Bed”, he said, making no room to argue. They were both grown; and if she tried something in his sleep, he would not hesitate to toss her out and effect a restraining order against her.

“Thank you, Damian”, she whispered, as she lied beside him.

After a few minutes of her tossing and turning, Damian huffed out an exhausted, before turning to her with tired eyes.

“Stop moving”, he demanded quietly, watching as she blinked at him.

“Sorry”, she whispered, laying still under his gaze. “I’m still getting used to the time difference, and the nap from earlier didn’t help.”

“It’s only a few hours difference”, he reassured. “You’ll get used to it by tomorrow.”

There was a beat of silence as they both stared at each other. Him with heavy lids and her with curiosity.

“Have you been here before?” Marinette asked tentatively, earning another sigh from him. But Damian, in his exhausted state, decided to entertain her for a bit, hoping that she would grow bored enough to sleep.

“I’ve lived here for a while a few years back. My father and older brother thought it would be a good way for me to make friends”, he said.

“Did it work?”

“I suppose I made a few. Had my first reciprocated crush, too.” This seemed to peak her interest, but she still hesitated when asking.

“Is that why you were gone after curfew? To see your old friends?”

“Yes”, he said, going for an ambiguous truth.

“And your crush?”

“Kind of hard not to, when she’s dating my...friend.” Damian wondered why he was letting more than he should. She didn’t need to know about his past flings, no matter how much he made peace with it.

“Oh”, she whispered. “You guys are very mature. I know that kind of the thing would break friendships.”

He hummed noncommittal. The two couldn’t help how they feel, and besides, there were too many times than he liked to admit, where they had saved him. So, yes — it was pretty easy to disregard petty drama and the messiness of romances.

“Is there any reason why you went back home?”

“My father needed me, and they didn’t need me anymore”, he said, holding back the yawn in his voice.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice drawing a bit out as her eyes blinked sleepily.

He thought of how, despite his growth with them, there was a constant need to command them what to do. He learned how that often clashed with them, and Damian was reminded of how his leadership skills only worked best on those seeking for his commanding guidance. Not them — who were individualized to be seen as equals, who had thoughts and ideas that had not been trained out of them.

“Our personalities clash after too much time together, so I prefer to keep my time with them short to avoid headaches”, he said vaguely. “But I still trust them, despite the distance.”

Marinette’s eyes were closed now as she smiled softly.

“That’s sweet”, she yawned before it turned into soft, even breathing.

He hummed, feeling his lids fall close as he gratefully succumbed to sleep.

Damian awoke to see her sitting up in the bed. He feigned sleep, as he watched her try to quietly sneak out of the bed. She smoothed the blankets down and flipped over her pillow with an even larger drool stain to the dry side.

Soundlessly, she moved towards the door with her shoes and bag in hand, checking left and right until deeming it safe for her to leave. The door shut softly behind her, and Damian smiled to himself in relief that he can finally sleep peacefully in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Jhené AIko's "In a World of My Own".  
> 
> 
> I had something really complex and cute for this, like a whole psychedelic "Alice in Wonderland"-inspired type of story — hence, Jhene's song. but I completely forgot it, so here's "and there was only one bed" trope lol.


	28. vingt-huit. that platonic shit for TV shows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, childhood.

vingt-huit. that platonic shit for TV shows // childhood

* * *

Marinette first met Damian at a party as he stood stiffly in his clean suit beside his father and older brothers. She was ten — three years his junior — and wearing a dress with a puffy skirt that reached her knees that she felt too old for. They were both at an awkward age where they were too old to be running around with the mischievous children and too young to join in on the older teenagers’ conversations of rebellion and flirtations.

Her new nanny had encouraged her to talk to the Wayne heir, but she quietly refused to do so, judging from the irritated scowl that marred his features. So, she sat next to him, merely acknowledging him with a polite nod, as she watched her uncle, her guardian, network and entertain the elite.

SHe accidentally made eye contact with all of Damian’s family members, but easily dismissed it as people watching until her gaze zeroed in on the new nanny, muttering into her phone.

The young girl wasn’t very fond of her, considering how her smiles appeared too forced, or how something resembling irritation flashed in her eyes, when Marinette refused her requests to wear this or join her on walks. Yet, that would all disappear when she put on that faux grin and attempted to charm her uncle when he was near.

As intelligent as her uncle was for being the head of an up and coming technology group in Singapore, he was very clueless when it came to the likes of women and their attractions to him. Then again, he was still very oblivious when _anyone_ liked him for that matter.

Marinette smiled at the memory of when her male dance instructor flirted with him unashamed as her uncle blushed helplessly before excusing himself to his office.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a very loud voice, coming from one of Damian’s brothers. The broad man, swung a thick arm around the younger brother, who growled at him.

“Hey, Damiboy”, his speech slurred as his wine dangerously sloshed around in his hand.

“Why don’t you socialize more?” the brother asked, directly meeting her eyes. She gave her practiced smile, as she watched the clear disdain on the preteen’s face.

“Get the fuck off, Jason”, he demanded sternly, but the man remained unaffected by his venomous words.

“Excuse his language, Miss Marinette”, he said, and she was taken aback by how sober and polite he sounded. “I hope your time here with my grumpy brother wasn’t too unpleasant.”

“Not at all”, she replied, honestly. In all truth, parties like that overwhelmed her at that age, and she was grateful that he was not pesky in asking about her associations and family. “I enjoyed his company.”

“So polite”, Jason cooed down at her, and Marinette fought off the urge to grimace at still being viewed as a child.

“She’s not a puppy, Todd”, Damian snarked. “Talk to her as your equal, or don’t talk to her at all.”

Once again, she was surprised by how the grumpy boy was considerate for her feelings, despite not even talking to her all evening.

Jason merely chuckled and genuinely apologized for his rudeness. Yet, Marinette was cut off by the voice of her tipsy uncle with the nanny by his side.

“Excuse us, Mister Wayne’s”, her uncle greeted, before turning to her. The two brothers nodded in return, going into their own quiet conversation.

“Is it all right if you head home without me?” He said, meeting her eyes. “Some associates of mine still want to discuss future products, but I can arrange to talk with them at a later date.”

Marinette only shook her head, as she presented a reassuring smile to the man.

“Go ahead, uncle”, she encouraged, flashing a glance between the nanny and him.

With a thankful look, her uncle patted her head and nodded farewell to her and the Wayne’s, meeting with his awaiting associates.

Her nanny stepped forward, placing a firm hand on her shoulder as she waited expectantly, and Marinette cleared her throat before speaking.

“It was a pleasure to meet you both”, she said, noting how their demeanors shifted.

Jason was no longer with that broad smile, but an impassive look and narrowed eyes directed at the woman beside her. As for Damian, he dropped his scowl as he looked indifferently at the two.

“Likewise”, the older brother agreed. The younger brother merely nodded at her, before she felt her nanny put more pressure to the grip on her shoulder.

They had left silently, as Marinette followed the woman. Yet, instead of leaving through the front door of the lobby, her nanny had lead her to the back entrance to an empty alley. Marinette hesitated to follow, subtly taking in her surroundings. There was only a black SUV, parked and running towards the closest end.

“That uncle of yours is too cautious, Marinette”, her nanny began with a humored tsk. “He has the car pull to the side to avoid the press from taking further pictures of you.”

The girl contemplated for a moment, knowing how paranoid her uncle was, yet, something still did not sit right with her. Ignoring her instinct, she followed her nanny, keeping an eye on every shadow and crevice while still remaining vigilant of the car ahead.

Yet, she halted in her steps, feeling the anxiety that something awful was awaiting her with each step that brought her closer.

“Marinette?” her nanny asked, and the girl saw the brief look of panic dart between her and the vehicle. “Come on, sweetheart, the car is waiting for us.”

But she shook her head, eyes wide as she frantically looked between her and the car. Something felt too off, and Marinette did not know how to put it into words without sounding crazy.

“I don’t want to go in that car”, she said, stepping backwards, but her nanny gripped her shoulder tight.

“Sweetheart, it’s all right”, the woman tried to coo, in spite of the death-like hold on her. “You must be tired from all the excitement. The car is going to take us home.”

“Please”, Marinette shook her head, tugging at her caretaker’s hold. “Let’s find Uncle.”

The car doors began to open, as many shadowed men started to file put, and she was just about to point this out to the older woman until she caught the twisted look in her eyes with that same matching saccharine smile.

“Marinette”, she spat, as her lips curled up in a cold smile. _“Get in the car.”_

But the girl slipped out of her grasp, breathing hard as she watched the nanny stand up slowly while the men stalked to them.

There was a slam of the door to her side, and Marinette along with everyone snapped their attention to the side entrance revealing a very irked Damian glaring at all of them.

“Miss Marinette”, he called, making the girl jump in her place. “Come with me.”

Trusting her instinct, the girl hurried to his side as her nanny and the men stared in shock before it was replaced with fear as the tell-tale siren of the police came.

They all looked around frantically to discover that many police cars blocked any openings to escape, yet, Damian pulled her through the door, closing it in place to prevent her from seeing what could happen.

The boy wordlessly lead her back to a private office where her uncle had waited for her. A few men, including some that she recognized as Damian’s father and brothers were there, as well, watching how her uncle immediately hugged her confused and shocked frame.

From the corner of her eye, she saw how Damian’s father nodded to his youngest approvingly.

Her uncle replaced her nanny with someone far more genuine and nicer the next week.

* * *

The next time Marinette meets Damian she had just turned fifteen and had her first kiss with the son of her uncle’s clients.

The boy was sweet and charming, but she knew she was not the only girl he was infatuated with, judging from the countless names with heart emojis blowing up his phone. Marinette knew where she stood with him, and she had reminded herself countless times that as long as she does not fall in love with him, she would be okay.

When she had walked home, she hardly recognized the boy that had saved her from being kidnapped a few years ago. His baby face had melted to reveal strong cheek bones and jawlines. He had grown taller and was clearly fit, judging by how his muscle filled his fitted suit.

He was standing in the foyer, and that was when her new uncle (and her dance instructor that her maternal uncle had fallen in love with) had noticed her and teasingly called out to her.

Marinette did all she could to not squirm under the attention, well aware of her kiss-bruised lips and the very obvious way she pulled at her hair to cover the hickeys bruising her collar.

If Damian and his father saw, they did well to not make any indication that they noticed. Her maternal uncle was oblivious to her discomfort, still viewing her as the young girl he raised when her parents had passed, yet, his husband smirked at her proudly and continued to tease his best student.

“Mari baby”, he had called as he exaggerated the flip of his dark dreadlocks. “Why don’t you go show Damian around the garden? I’m sure he would not want to deal with old people talk.”

She glared at him before hesitantly meeting the young man’s impassive gaze, awaiting for her to lead him away. His father looked amused, as well, but Damian cleared his throat impatiently.

With a tentative step, Marinette lead him away and to the gardens, wondering how the fuck would she entertain this guest with plants.

After minutes of silence and her pointing out a few tidbits of how her uncle’s technology played a part in helping this flower grow in this soil or how these plants were watered with an eco-friendly irrigation system, Damian finally spoke to her.

“You don’t have to pull on your hair, anymore”, he said, staring straight forward. “Everyone, aside, from your uncle are well aware in your physical pass time.”

Marinette let go, surprised out how deep his voice had gotten compared to the last time they had spoken. She was embarrassed, as well, already sending silent curses to her dance instructor for teasing her like this.

It was quiet for moment, before Marinette decided to speak up again, thinking back to their first meeting and how disastrous that was.

“Thank you again for coming to get me that day”, she said, watching his reaction, but he showed no signs of surprise or confusion. Her uncle finally explained that her old nanny was paid to isolate her so they can kidnap her for ransom and blackmail by a competing tech company.

“I didn’t realize what was happening at the time, but things could have turned out much worse if you and your family did not intervene.”

The teen next to her hummed, before finally speaking.

“We were lucky that you stalled enough. If you had gotten in that car, it would have made the police’s jobs harder to find you. It was impressive that you had that instinct of who to trust at such a young age.”

Marinette nodded, not knowing what to say, but Damian continued anyways.

“Wonder where that ability has gone, though”, he said, walking pass her to view the succulents.

Yet, Marinette paused, confused on where that arrogance and hint of disgust had come from.

“Excuse me”, she had said, furrowing her brows. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“Nothing”, he said, humming. “Just that by looking at your neck, you seem to be letting anyone close to you nowadays.”

“I— not anyone”, she found herself, defending. “Only one person.”

“I’m aware. The designer’s son, right?” Damian said unimpressed. “You are aware of how he was seen just last week with another model, and the week before that he was photographed with an actress.”

“Yes”, Marinette said, wondering what he was trying to play at by pulling up her hook-up’s dating history.

His eyes narrowed as he sneered at her. “So you’re willing to enter a relationship, already knowing of how uncouth that man is.”

“I’m aware”, she said, tilting her head, still not getting where his anger is coming from.

He tsked at her with a roll of his eyes, and walked away. She did well to keep up, still unsure of how to proceed.

“Damian”, she called. “If this is your way of showing worry to a stranger, then I just want you to know that I’m well aware of my options and resources.”

He said nothing, but his pace slowed down to match hers.

“I’ve already talked with my doctor about certain medications and exams if I ever do decide to get _more physical_ ”, she cringed, feeling a blush come on, before she continued casually. “And not that it is any of your concern, I am well aware of what kind of relationship I am going to enter with him, and I fully accept the physical and emotional consequences. It is _my_ own sexuality and desires to explore.”

Damian stopped in his steps, looking at her with a raised brow, but Marinette continued.

“I choose to view your snarky comment as a sign of concern, and while I do appreciate it”, she said. “It is not needed.”

The teen remained pensive, before he looked away.

“You are right”, he said slowly, and she could hear the genuineness in his voice. “I apologize for overstepping my bounds.”

Marinette wanted to reassure him that she accepted his apology, but her uncle had called the two from the house, alerting them that the Wayne’s must take their leave.

But he walked away from her without so much as another word.

* * *

Marinette does not see him until a few years later, when she was on the cusp of turning eighteen and had experienced her first heartbreak.

It was bound to happen, and she saw it coming a mile away. Even then, it still hurt, and she confined herself to her room for a week, before finding the confidence to go out. Her uncles had eased her back into the daily life with supportive arms and suggestions that they murder her ex, to which she laughed at with a shake of her head.

“To hell with him”, her uncle-slash-dance instructor said, while rubbing her arms and passing her the bowl of sliced fruits. They sat at the kitchen island, patiently waiting for their other uncle, and decide to pass the time with her favorite comfort food. “He was an idiot to not be enough for you.”

With her mouth full of crème caramel, she nodded before swallowing. She reached for a slice of mango, as she began to voice her feelings.

“I really wanted him to like me the way I liked him”, the young woman sighed, popping the fruit into her mouth, and speaking around it. “He was so sweet to me at first, but then he gave up halfway through our whole relationship.”

“Well”, her uncle said, biting into a strawberry. “at least, he’s gone, and you don’t have to constantly deal with half-assed efforts.”

Her maternal uncle came in through the kitchen, dressed in a clean gray suit she recommended, carefully watching her as he asked.

“Do you still want to go the gala, Marinette? We have time to decline, and I’ll just send over a fruit basket to the Wayne’s.”

“No, no”, Marinette interrupted while wiping her mouth with a napkin. She, along with her other uncle, stood up to reveal their gala attire, with her in a forest green evening gown with a low back and her other uncle in a navy suit with gold accents.

“I’m ready”, she confirmed to both of her wary uncles, throwing in a smile for good measure.

* * *

At the party, Marinette had a dumb realization that if Damian’s father was hosting the event, then, surely Damian would be there, as well.

In all honesty, the girl had completely forgotten about him, since he had tried to school her on protection and who she should date or whatever he was trying to do — she wasn’t really sure, and that whole interaction had been weird.

But seeing him now almost caused her to swoon at the sight. If it were any more possible he had gotten even more handsome as he began to take after his father, save for his bronze complexion and green eyes. The scowl remained and was directed at the men she recognized as his brothers smirking at him.

Marinette, almost wanted to go up to them, and reintroduce herself, but then thought better of it when she realized that it was her broken heart talking. It was most definitely not a good idea to rebound with the son of her uncle’s largest partners. So, she retreated to the appetizers, while her uncles left to speak with some associates and potential investors.

The girl made small talk with a few of her uncle’s friends, who had commented on how much she had grown and matured, and a few other people that she knew of due to her ex.

It was a bit awkward having to explain to them that she and her ex had mutually split up, but Marinette recognized their fake pitying looks and heard the subtle snark of how they believed that she should have known not date him. It frustrated her to no end, but she kept up her serene facade to avoid slapping them for their passive aggressiveness.

Marinette had to excuse herself from them, and smoothly grabbed onto a flute of champagne from the passing waiter. Sure, she was underage, but many of these socialites have been practicing how to drink since puberty. She had found a secluded corner, to down her drink in one go and hid the empty evidence in the pot of a decorative plant. Her body began to warm, and she sighed in relief for escaping her peer’s judgmental stares and unneeded opinions.

“You shouldn’t be drinking”, a voice had lightly scolded, causing her to jump and snap her head at the source.

There, stood Damian with his hands kept to his pockets while he lazily walked towards her.

“I shouldn’t”, she agreed with a sheepish smile, yet, he didn’t answer, opting to just stand beside her as he gazed out the crowd of people.

“How have you been?” she asked, peering up at his side profile. She was amazed at how much muscle he had gained, seeing as how his whole arm was doubled hers.

“Fine”, Damian grunted out, keeping his eyes on everyone.

“That’s good”, she replied easily despite his clipped tone. They were silent for a moment and she was reminded of the time when they were both younger and at a party similar to this.

“Do you still not like parties?” Marinette smiled at the memory of her sitting beside the scowling boy as she wore the velour dress she absolutely hated.

“Excuse me?” Damian looked down at her before going back to survey the crowd.

“You don’t look like you enjoy these kind of things”, she furthered. “I remember us sitting together, and you were pouting the whole time.”

“I wasn’t pouting”, he argued, looking offended. “I was irked that I had to babysit you.”

“Babysit?” she questioned with a tilt of her head, and an irritated sigh came out of her companion’s mouth.

“Yes”, he said. “Remember how you were almost abducted that night? Your uncle was rightfully cautious and didn’t want to leave you alone as he networked or whatever.”

Marinette blinked. “Why didn’t he just leave me with an adult?”

“My father persuaded him that I can accompany you, since we were closer in age.”

“But you hardly talked to me.”

“Because I don’t like talking to children.”

“Then why’d you agree to it?” Marinette found herself pressing on.

“Because I had to”, he answered exasperated.

It was a bit of a shock to her, not aware of how much details her uncle left out that night But she felt most bothered by the fact that Damian was only civil to her because he felt obligated by his father.

“Thank you?” she said unsure of how to respond. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother to you.”

Damian sighed, taking on a softer look.

“You weren’t”, he answered truthfully, and Marinette thought that he was going to take his leave, but he doesn’t. He stands quietly beside her up until she breaks the silence when a panicked thought reaches her.

“Wait”, she said, grabbing onto the sleeve of his tux. “Are you watching me right now because someone is planning my abduction again?”

Damian stared at her for a solid few seconds, before answering with a straight tone.

“No.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” Marinette let go and breathed in relief and curiosity got the better of her.

“Then, why are you with me?”

“I heard”, he paused, clearing his throat and trailing off. “I heard that you had just gotten through a break up.”

She looked up at him, bewildered at how considerate he was.

“I just thought that you deserved a companion for the evening that will not pester you for details.”

“I appreciate that”, Marinette smiled gratefully up at him, and he turned away with a clearing of his throat.

“Of course”, he replied awkwardly, and she wondered why his voice lacked the usual bite in it. Damian rubbed at his head before glaring when he noticed her watching him with an amused grin.

Marinette decided to lay off him, and went back to gazing at the crowd, hearing his indignant huff.

His older brother that she recognized as Jasonappeared, grabbing onto his irate brother and whispering something that she could hardly hear.

She curiously watched as how Damian’s scowl turned into that of approval as his brother pulled away. The two nodded at each other in a silent conversation.

Jason turned to her with that same teasing grin in place, and she could not help but match his optimism with one of her own.

“Well, look at you, Miss Marinette”, he said, causing her to giggle. “You’re all grown up.”

“Nice to see you again, Mister Jason”, she greeted, noticing how Damian rolled his eyes at his brother’s flirting. Jason seemed to have caught that, as well, and boisterously announced his departure to the two.

“I’ll leave you two alone”, he winked, and his younger scowled at his implications. But Jason merely walked away. “Damiboy, make sure that Miss Marinette doesn’t leave through any sketchy exits, especially the one in the north side of the building.”

Marinette tilted her head and looked up at the scowling Damian.

“What did he mean by —“ she began to ask, but the young man cut her off.

“Nothing”, he pointed, making no room for further explanation. Marinette shrugged, deciding to push it to the back of her head.

It was silent, once more. But then, Damian asked the unthinkable.

“Would you like to dance?” he said, grimacing all the while he proffered his palm to her. The girl snorted at his clear discomfort, earning another glare from him. Nevertheless, she took his hand.

“Sure”, Marinette smiled, and she would be lying if she said she did not take pleasure in how the tips of his ears turned red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Wale's "Need to Know (feat. SZA)".
> 
> i tried for a childhood meet cute. but I guess this mostly relates to marinette growing up and maturing??


	29. vingt-neuf. you got your daddy's discernment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, children.

vingt-neuf. you got your daddy’s discernment // children

* * *

Damian awakes to his nose being pinched, curious green eyes, and an incessant babbling coming from the young infant.

“Mari”, he groaned, turning away and ignoring the sound of displeasure coming from his daughter. “Please get Ava.”

No response.

Immediately, he sat up mindful of his daughter glaring adorably at him. He carefully scooped the little girl against his chest as she furiously babbled at him, pounding at his skin with her tiny fists.

Damian surveyed the room, carefully noting anything out of place, yet, there was no sign of Marinette other than her makeup being out of place on her vanity and a single note on the nightstand. With a hesitant hand, he read the note, hoping that it was not a note holding his beloved for ransom, but Marinette’s handwriting was clear.

_Damian,_

_Out running errands. I’ll meet you and Ava at your father’s for dinner tonight. Take care of her!_

_♡ Mari_

Ava starts to whine as her face turns a deep, frustrated red, and he takes it back. He wishes that it was a ransom or blackmail note because in all of his daughter’s first four months of living, he had never been alone with her.

It was not that he did not love his daughter. Ever since he found out about his girlfriend’s unexpected pregnancy, Damian had taken to reading every parenting book within reach. He felt prepared to take on the role of father, yet, his double life had called for him, and he began to spend less and less time with his family much to Marinette’s dismay and disappointment.

That momentum of being ready to take on fatherhood had died down along with his energy to actually bond alone with his daughter. Sure, he had taken on feeding and changing her as much as he could, yet, Marinette was always near him, sleeping or resting within the same room.

Not to mention, Ava always seemed to pine after her, whenever Damian held her, reaching or grabbing onto her hair. He felt somewhat hurt, yet, it was understandable, considering how Marinette was with her more than anyone.

“It’s okay”, he calms his daughter, who was on the verge of a tantrum, but it seems that his own nerves were eased. “Mama’s coming soon.”

At the mention of her mother, Ava began to babble out “mama” while looking for Marinette. Damian tenses, watching her face scrunch up as she came to realization that her mama was not there.

“Please...” Damian, almost begs, grimacing at the inevitable. “Don’t...”

But his daughter ignores him, as she lets out the most unholiest wails.

* * *

Damian is disheveled as he pulls up to his father’s manor, trying so hard to keep some semblance of himself together as Ava shrieks in his arms.

Tim and Jason are the ones to greet him in shock, as they watch their usually stoic and scowling brother, desperately bounce the wailing girl in his arms.

“Why won’t you stop crying?” Damian mutters exhaustively. A diaper bag is slung across his torso, and his other hand grips at the baby carrier with endless amount of stuffed toys.

“Give her here”, Jason laughs at his expense as he carefully takes the crying girl. Tim moves to grab the carrier, mindful of the toys with an amused smile on his face.

Damian, wordlessly, allows them, already feeling relief at having the extra weight off him, and he falls haphazardly into one of the antique armchairs.

“She has been crying nonstop”, he said, staring at nothing. “When I fed her, when I gave her a bath, the whole fifteen minute car ride here.”

Tim chuckles, patting his younger brother on the head, as they watched Jason bounce the teary-eyed child in his arms. He began to make silly faces at her, causing Ava to whimper in curiosity before fully squealing into laughter.

Damian looks on amazed, and for a moment,in admiration at his older brother before shaking his head.

“Aw”, Tim cooed at the little girl, making a gesture to Jason for him to pass her. “You got your Mommy’s smile, huh?”

At this, Ava giggled more, and Damian felt a surge of envy pass through him because that was his daughter, damn it, and he should be the one to make her laugh like that.

“Tt”, he said with a roll of his eyes as his brothers looked at him amused. “I’ll hold her.”

Jason smugly grins at him, leaning an elbow against Tim’s shoulder.

“You sure you can handle it, Demon?”, he teases.

“Yes”, he says impatiently when Tim passes Ava.

“Don’t scowl, Damian”, Tim points out. “You’ll make her cry again.”

He purses his lips, before forcing his cheeks to pull up. It feels awkward and strained and judging from the dark looks on his brothers’ faces, he’s not doing it right.

Ava looks ready to burst into tears again, and Damian panics, turning away from his brothers to comfort his little girl.

“There, there”, he bounces her lightly, wondering how bad he already messed up as a parent.

Meanwhile, Tim and Jason are snickering behind him, thinking how sweet the Demon Spawn is to his daughter.

* * *

“My, Miss Ava has gotten so big”, Alfred says proudly, waving a toy in her face. She looks delighted, reaching forwards, but strong hands keep her secured in place.

“It’s a good thing she hasn’t taken anything from you, Dami”, Dick smiles, waving at the happily squealing girl.

“Shut up.”

“Damian”, his father calls, as he readjusts Ava in his arms. “How much longer must I hold her?”

“That’s not up to Damian, B”, Tim says, popping his lips when Ava turns to him. She giggles relentlessly, while clinging onto her grandfather’s collar.

“You’re her favorite”, Jason teases, smirking at Damian, who was most definitely not pouting at having his father besting him at being some good parental figure.

There is a short flash, and everyone snaps their head to Alfred proudly holding up a camera towards his oldest ward.

“Make me a copy, please, Alfred”, Bruce calls out, much to the dismay of his youngest, who was glaring daggers at his brothers.

His father, noticing this, gestures for Dick to hold the infant.

“Damian”, his father clears his throat, nodding to have a talk out in the hallway.

Reluctantly, the young father follows, already making up his mind.

“You make it too easy for Jason and Tim to tease you”, His father comments, causing Damian to furrow his brows, nonetheless, he remains silent.

“I know that our missions have been pulling you away from Marinette and Ava”, the older man continues. “Yet, if you are struggling with fatherhood...”

“You don’t have to worry about this, Father”, Damian cuts in, meeting his eye, conveying how important this was to him. “I’m just easing my way into taking care of her without Marinette.”

The older Wayne raises a brow.

“Sure, I was a little lost”, Damian adds in quietly, before continuing more confidently, “But Ava is my daughter, and I love her. So, relax — _I got this_.”

There is hint of a proud smile on his father’s face as he says quietly.

“I suppose I have nothing to worry about.”

“Nope”, Damian smirks, and there is look of understanding between the father and son. But the moment is interrupted by a loud, boisterous voice.

“Tada!” the two hear Jason call out as there is a continuous flash from who they assume is Alfred photographing. They wear the same matching unimpressed grimace as they peek inside the room to see the mischievous ward standing proudly.

“It’s the newest Robin!” Jason presents, holding up Ava. She blinks as as she was fitted into an adorable Robin onesie, that Marinette had left in the diaper bag. But what really made Damian’s blood boil is how his daughter had dark green makeup blended around her eyes to resemble their green domino mask.

He practically sprints forward, before protectively snatching his daughter from his amused brother, while Dick, Tim and Alfred look like they were enjoying this too much.

“What did you do, you asshole! She has sensitive skin!” There’s a lighthearted scold of _Language!_ , but it goes ignored as Damian practically growls, while worriedly looking for any signs of a rash occurring.

Without waiting for a response, Damian rushes pass his still unamused father and towards the washrooms.

Bruce sends a glare at his adopted sons, who all had the audacity to look unashamed.

“Don’t worry, B”, Jason waves off. “This was the makeup Marinette tested and approved of.”

“Besides, that was the most adorable thing we had ever seen”, Dick pipes in, showing Alfred the countless photos they had taken. They both simultaneously _aw_ at one particular picture.

“I already sent you copies”, Tim says, scrolling through his phone.

Bruce stares at all of them for a moment, before sighing and letting an easy smile take place.

“Good job”, he says quietly, looking towards the room where his youngest ran off.

* * *

In the washroom, Damian gently rubs at the green makeup, with a wet face towel, as his daughter babbles at nothing. She begins to whine, pushing at his hands and glaring adorably at him.

“Just a little bit more, Ava baby”, he mutters softly, preparing for her to cry. He finally gots the last of the makeup removed, and he breathes easily that her skin did not flare up.

He looks at his daughter, who babbles at her reflection in the mirror, while waving her arms.

A deprecating smile is in place as he watches her.

“I can see why Father is worried about us”, Damian whispers softly, catching the infant’s attention. “I keep making you cry.”

Ava blinks up at him, as her mouth parts in wonder. With a gentle finger, Damian reaches up to stroke her chubby cheeks, but his daughter wraps that finger in her chubby palms.

“I wish you can understand how much I love you”, he says, feeling her grip tighten.

A dimpled smile begins to form on her face as her green eyes alight with innocent laughter.

Damian blinks, surprised to see her sudden change in demeanor that was caused by...him?

“Was that a smile”, he asks as his lips curl, feeling something tug at his heart.

* * *

“Hi Alfred”, Marinette greets with a kiss to the older gentleman’s cheek, before going to wrap her arms around the awaiting Jason.

The second son lifts her up into the air as Tim raises a fist for her to bump, while Dick ruffles her hair. Jason lets her down, and she turns to see Bruce awaiting his greeting.

“Marinette”, Bruce leans forward as Marinette presses a kiss to his cheek, before proffering his elbow to which she takes. They all begin to walk down the hallway to where they can hear the quiet babbling in the living room.

“How was he?” the young mother worriedly questions.

“A little off at first”, Bruce admits.

“She was crying the whole morning”, Tim reveals, earning a small slap from the amused Dick.

“But Jason’s little makeover provided Damian the perfect opportunity to show Ava how much he cares.”

“We had already sent you copies, Miss Marinette”, Alfred says with a twinkle in his eyes. She sends them a grateful smile while Bruce opens the door to reveal Damian fast asleep in the playpen, with a babbling Ava staring at her father with stars in her eyes.

“I trust that you all will send me this, as well.”

“Of course”, they all agree, as multiple flashes from their phone simultaneously occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Francis and the Lights' "May I Have This Dance (feat. Chance the Rapper)".
> 
> this was heavily inspired by a vn lmao.


	30. trente. so heaven sent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, rivals.

trente. so heaven sent // rivals

* * *

Not many of his family, aside from Alfred and his father, were aware of where he went off to on Thursday mornings, but Damian had been attending an art class in the downtown center for a few weeks.

His skills quickly caught his teacher’s eye, and she had offered him more critiques and suggestions, considering how much potential he had. Damian never minded the criticism, taking it in stride on how to improve his art unless shrugging it off when he was too stubborn to take it.

Nevertheless, he enjoyed the classes as much as he could, but today was different.

When he walked into the room, the teacher had immediately told him among the other students to drop their belongings, especially their cell phones, at the front of the room, explaining that they would be practicing still life with a nude model for the day. Some of the students had left after that due to their discomfort with nudity or their lack of confidence in drawing human anatomy.

Damian was among the handful who had stayed, carefully setting up the easel and his materials before waiting patiently.

“One of my students in from yesterday’s evening class volunteered for us today”, the teacher announce proudly and began to explain the objectives for today. Yet, Damian only half-paid attention as he organized his pencils. The sound of the door opening, caused most of thestudents to snap their heads at the sight of a young woman with dark hair and almond shaped eyes in a white robe entering the room walking straight towards the excited teacher.

From what Damian could see, the model didn’t look nervous as she carefully eyed each and every one of the students briefly, most likely looking for a phone or camera, before the teacher called for everyone’s attention.

“This is Marinette”, the teacher, proudly said, earning a few murmurs from behind Damian. His ears tuned in on their quiet conversations, hearing key words, like _actual model_ , _designer brands, runway, and magazines_. It wasn’t tough to put the pieces together after that.

“The purpose of today’s class is to help you get used to the complexities of one of the many forms of the female body, and you al will treat and view her with respect”, the teacher said pointedly. Turning to the model, she nodded encouragingly helping the younger woman take off her robe as she moves towards the podium.

In all her nudity, Marinette kneeled carefully, displaying a side profile of her body with one hand splayed on her thigh and the other reaching up delicately to her cheek. With her face angled towards them, Damian watched as she adopted a look of serenity on her face, as she gazed at the floor.

Once it looked like everything was settled, the sound of pencils moving against paper filled the room, and Damian began to sketch out her frame and how her body was positioned, taking note of where she was facing and to angle it down when making the finishing touches.

His hands moved to outline her form with the guidance of the shapes he had drawn, adding a few details here and there where her curves dipped, the hints of her muscles, and the crescent shape of her feet below her bottom. Her outlined how her hair had fallen and curled over her chest without fully shielding her.

He traced her button nose and the way her lashed eyes lidded, along with slight part of her full lips.

Once satisfied, he began to detail the shadows of where her skin folded and where her muscle pulled taut, emphasizing the dips and light.

Judging from everyone’s furious sketching and sound of erasers rubbing, his classmates seemed to have trouble with the objective or at least, were trying to finish in an impressive time.

The teacher made her rounds to each student praising their style while suggesting a few pointers. By the time, the woman had reached Damian, he was already finishing the last of his sketches, capturing the tranquil look on her face along with the peaceful atmosphere the model had set.

The older woman paused at the sight of his portrait amazed, and Damian took pride in her speechlessness, watching as she nodded in approval.

She, then, clapped alerting everyone and the model that it was time for a new pose, much to the dismay of some who didn’t quite finished.

As he flipped over to a blank page in his sketchbook, Damian managed to catch the eye of the model, who looked at him perplexed, before shifting her gaze to the ceiling, as she leaned back into another relaxed posture.

Throughout the class, Damian had to admit that the model knew how to pose. From his own experiences when his father and Alfred had forced him into these family portraits, it was a pain to stand still hours on end as some commissioned artistpainted them. Yet, Marinette presented herself in a way that challenged his peers by changing the clenching and position of her hands, twisting her body this way and that.

Each time, Damian was still able to capture her silent beauty, always earning the approval and occasional compliment of the teacher.

By the time the class was over, he had managed to finish two more portraits that he was fairly proud of, even earning him a private meeting with the teacher and the model.

“Marinette, come meet Damian”, the older woman waved proudly, as the model already clothed in a casual white dress and straps sandals, met with a few other students who had recognized her profession.

When the model strode up to them, he could see the swagger and grace within each confident step she took. The younger woman took one careful glance at him, before meeting the eyes of the eager art teacher.

“I’ve told you about him before, Marinette”, the woman said pleased at their meeting. Damian met her eyes again, only this time, he saw something relevant to smug flashed across her face before it was schooled into a small smile, yet, her eyes remained narrowed, as if she was challenging him.

“Damian, you should show her the portraits you drew of her. They are absolutely gorgeous.” The older woman prattled on, oblivious to her students change in demeanor.

“I’d rather not”, he stated bluntly, putting a careful grip on his sketchbook. But the older woman sighed sadly, as the young model kept her polite facade up.

“Oh, such a shame”, the teacher said, before shrugging off her concerns and reassuring him. “But it’s perfectly fine if you’re not comfortable with sharing it.”

Damian nodded, still surveying the still quiet model. She pursed her lips, but still remained silent.

“Anyways, I just wanted the two of you to meet, considering how you both share the same passions”, the teacher went on, winking at the two, before picking up the last of her items and heading towards the door.

“Thank you again, Marinette. I’ll see you next week!” With that, she had left the two alone — Marinette stood idly, as Damian finished placing his items back into his bag.

The silence didn’t last for long when the model spoke up carefully.

“I really am quite curious to see how you drew me”, Marinette had said with a slight tease in her voice, carefully following his expression, but Damian would not let anything slip

“And as I said before”, he zipped his bag, slinging it on his shoulder, “I’d rather not.”

“Because it’s ugly?” Marinette raised a brow, as a coy smirk took place. For some reason, he felt vexed at how the model adopted such haughty demeanor, which irked him to no end.

“No”, he sternly said, yet, she ignored the danger in his tone.

“Then why won’t you show me a picture of myself?” she asked, feigning a childish pout. “I did bare myself today. I, at least, want to see how one of the students view me.”

“That was your choice”, he stated, yet, she ignored it.

“The human anatomy is really difficult to draw”, Marinette smiled. “Not anyone could perfect it, and even then, it is still very challenging to continuously draw it from many perspectives.”

Damian felt his eye twitch, somewhat irked by her mocking attitude.

“Just what are you insinuating?”

“Nothing, but I just wanted to remind you that art is subjective, and someone is bound to like yours”, she shrugged, turning away to head to the door.

Hie glared at her retreating form, clearly offended by her backhanded compliment.

“Like you can do any better”, he coffee with a roll of his eyes, effectively halting her sashay.

Marinette elegantly spun towards him, and he could see why she was a model. Damian tried to fight down the flush as he saw the arrogant challenge in her smile

“I could _show_ you”, she said, and he found himself intrigued by what she had up her sleeve. “In exchange, you have to show me the portraits.”

“Fine”, he agreed with a smirk, confident that her skills would be subpar to his.

“Great!” Marinette smiled, brightening up immediately. “All you have to do is be my nude model.”

Damian blinked.

_What._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Masego's "Tadow (feat. FKJ)".
> 
> model!marinette and artist!damian
> 
> this prompt took me the longest and is what kept me from uploading the rest of the finished chapters, however, i just did not have the energy to fully flesh it out a much as I wanted to (small pun intended). i wanted to dive in on how damian is really into art according to some of the comics and tropes I found in the fandom but oh well. the little banter is supposed to be marinette teasing damian and damian blowing it out of proportion into what is supposed to be a rivalry lol.


	31. trente et un. you're so bad at holding water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> —or, new year's.

trente et un. you’re so bad at holding water // new year's

* * *

Damian watches her as she sits comfortably on her balcony while gazing carefully at the night sky.

He can see how her eyes trace the constellations, patiently awaiting for the fireworks.

The streets are lively tonight, and some of her neighbors from across the street politely wave at her to which she returns with a giggle.

He smiles, despite himself, reminded of why he continues to watch over her from behind the chimney that divides her balcony from the roof, regardless of his promise to her.

Damian cares for her, far too much, where he is willing to sacrifice everything — throw away the cape he is wearing or destroy the trust he had always wanted — all for her.

It was why she returned home, making the decision for him, because the world needs him more than they need each other.

_I don’t want you to live in worry for me anymore_ , _she whispered as he stared at nothing, doing nothing, saying nothing._

There is a loud whistle and the bright lights burst against the iconic landmark, and she sits up suddenly, rushing to the railings with the wide, childish wonder in her eyes.

_I don’t want to be your motivation to fight. She stood with a suitcase, standing in front of a half-empty closet and cleared out drawers. He just sat on what once was_ their _bed, now his to take by himself._

Cheers resound all around her, along with the pops of champagne and confetti. She calls out happily, with one hand waving at her kissing neighbors and their children, leaning forward against the rails.

“Bonne Année!” she yells, over the fireworks, still bursting with colors against her.

_I don’t want to be your weakness. He stares at the door she had left through hours ago. No tears, no words, and no regrets. He knew this was coming, and he made an active note to visit his father’s computer to ensure that she settles alright and secure her finances._

The fireworks are set off more closer together, as the smell of smoke and gun powder fill the air, but she shamelessly breathes it in like the idiot he had always known her to be. She relishes in the spectacle, as the lights continue to burst and fizzle out in its enchanting display.

He swears that he can hear all of her city clapping and cheering, but she is the loudest — _the happiest_. And that is all he can ask for, that she is happy without him.

That it was worth it. That what they gave up was worth it.

He smiles, despite himself.

“See you, Marinette”, he whispers, preparing to depart.

Before he leaves, he feels the gaze on his back and hears the quiet call of his name

_“Damian.”_ And she does not sound surprised to see him. She sounds happy. Yet, she makes no moves for him to stay or leave.

But he does not turn around — he leaps away from her, and he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Kehlani's "Footsteps (feat. Musiq Soulchild)”.

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year everyone!
> 
> i hope in the near future to edit and expand on some of this, but honestly, i am so glad i finally finished my first multi-chapter of messes. it really showed me a lot of flaws in my writing that i would like to fix.
> 
> this daminette ship was fun, and i really hope to write more for them later on.
> 
> thanks for reading! with so much love, may ♡


End file.
